


Tempering the Edge

by VermillionQ



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermillionQ/pseuds/VermillionQ
Summary: After Brom's death they fled and for three years Eragon and Saphira have remained hidden far to the north of the Empire. Accompanied by the sword master Murtagh, the witch and herbalist Angela, and the enigmatic werecat Solembum they have learned and grown. Now the time has come for them to return to Alagaesia and answer the inevitable questions. Where were they, what were they doing, and what will happen next?Join them as they journey back to the realm they fled and watch as Eragon and Saphira are forced to reckon with their fears, anxieties, and question who they are and what are they meant to be.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. A Day for Fishing and Decisions

Eragon peered out at the horizon. The rays of the sun crept upwards, marking the change of twilight to daylight. A sea wind rushed up at him, but he was accustomed to the cold climate of the harsh northern reaches of Alagaesia. The bottom half of his long coat whipped around his legs. The silver fur around the collar bristled. He had been particularly proud of the kill he had made to acquire the coat. A massive snow wolf, large enough to take down Cadoc or Snowfire with ease. It’s carcass had been used well, as he’d fashioned all manner of things needed to survive in the northern climate he has called home for some time now. He felt a nudge at the back of his mind.

**_'A good day for hunting sea fowl,'_ ** stated Saphira. The ground shook slightly as she alighted next to him. Two years had been kind to her. She was larger than ever, capable of tearing apart a house with ease. Her spines the size of large hogs and claws capable of taking down an elk with a single flick. Eragon nodded.

"Eragon!" He looked over the ledge. Murtagh stood twenty feet below waving. A pair of ospreys were draped over his back. He smirked.

"Good hunting I see. Saphira thinks today would be good for fishing and I agree. That storm we saw when scouting the other day will be upon us by night. We shouldn't let today go to waste." Murtagh nodded.

"Get down here and we'll get everything ready. I'll call for Angela." Murtagh turned and looked back up the ridge, telling the herbalist to come down to shore. Eragon clambered onto Saphira's back. She was not wearing her saddle, but Eragon had no worries. His trousers, fitted and made of padded leather with a thin fur layer of hare and pika on the inside, were hardy and protected him from her abrasive scales which were as rough as newly mined diamond. She unfurled her wings and jumped, gliding to below.

Eragon leaped off of her to the ground and landed lightly, a skill that had taken some time to perfect with too many bruises as a result. He walked to the makeshift lean-to. Murtagh and he had constructed it out of oiled buckskin and timber staves. Underneath they stowed a variety of important items for their seafaring adventures. Eragon pulled out the pieces to assemble their catamaran. Angela had designed it, and Murtagh and he had constructed it for the purpose of navigating the icy waters of the north and to acquire game of their own. It took the pressure off of Saphira to hunt in the sea for others beside herself.

Angela approached, her arms looped through the oddly shaped woolen shawl she wore over her leather covered sailing jacket. Instead of a dress or skirt she wore thick linen leggings and knee high boots. Murtagh was garbed like Eragon, but brown leather and the fur of a bear for his collar that he’d killed their first autumn in the north. "Fabulous," she said with a cheery voice. "Time to get cracking." She began to assemble the ship with Murtagh while Solembum curled up without a word to anyone by the smoldering embers underneath the smoking rack.

They were out to sea before long, while Saphira circled overhead with Solembum in his human form. Their combined keen eyesight had saved all of them many a time from being prey to beast, man, or nature. Sometimes even all three. Angela wielded a whale bone javelin with keen dexterity and precision, spearing as high as six fish at a time. Murtagh used his composite longbow to shoot down more ospreys and other game from the air and then cast out a net to pull it in.

Eragon set his mind to searching the depths, hunting by magic. When he came upon a large enough target he'd invade its mind. Angela had emphasized the importance of various different forms of life. Recently siring offspring or being a female would spare them, while being a healthy adult male who had not sired recently would not. He had become adept at searching many memories of animals. He would usually kill with one of the two words of death taught to him by the herbalist. Angela, being a witch, had taught Eragon a vast array of things from potions, rituals, and incantations. She had even given him two compendiums of knowledge of the ancient language and he treasured them.

**_'Saphira, do you spot anything from above.'_** She hummed, a deep vibrating sound. He looked up and saw her neck craning down and tongue flicking about. Finally after a few moments she snapped it up.

**_'About a fifty feet directly below you, a bull orca.'_ ** Eragon thanked her and cast his mind into the icy depths until he found it. He ignored the fear that engulfed him as he invaded the whales mind and sifted through its memories. As he concluded it was a worthy kill he stated his apologies in the ancient language and cast the spell.  **_"Kverst.”_ **

When he had first done this he had recoiled at the feeling, but now he didn't even twitch. He picked up a harpoon and, ensorcelling it with accuracy, launched it downward to pierce the end section. He secured the rope to the large mast that hung in the middle of the catamaran, used for buoyancy and to haul catches.

"What tasty treat do we have for tonight," Angela asked without looking up from her knitting. The two pine boxes next to her were full of fish.

"An orca, which means fertilizer for your herbs," she smiled at this, "and a variety of other goods from bone, meat, oil, and hide." Murtagh grunted in appreciation as he hauled a rather large loon aboard.

"We should get back and start dealing with it right away. The storm will be upon us soon." Eragon looked out and saw the thick opaque clouds on the horizon. He turned and began weaving hand symbols and three glowing glyphs appeared in midair as if spun from starlight. He whistled a tune and the marks flew gently into the sails. They began rushing back to shore and he felt the slight ebb of energy leave him.

Murtagh and Angela gathered their things, steadying themselves as the catamaran rushed for the shore. As they landed Murtagh and Eragon removed their coats and shoes, pulling on thigh high boots of seal skin and treated tree bark.They jumped into the water and pulled the catamaran onto shore, glad to avoid the icy waters.

Saphira landed, and Angela and Solembum began to lay out the fish on long boards to prepare them for smoking and storing. Saphira lit the fire till it was roaring. As Eragon and Murtagh, finished emptying the catamaran of it’s haul and Saphira waded into the water to retrieve the orca.

'It is young, maybe only a little over twelve feet.' She tugged hard and yanked it out of the water, her wings flapping in large strokes to give her an extra boost. She delicately set the orca down by the lean to. Eragon removed his gloves and threw on a canvas apron, rolling up his sleeves as Murtagh drew out several knives for handling the task of gutting it.

The day had ended with higher winds and the cold biting at their cheeks. They were able to finish just as the first flurries fell. Saphira hauled their things, and then all of them, back up the cliff side. They stole away into the thick pine woods that lined the edge of the shore cliffs. Soon enough they came upon an isolated clearing at the base of The Spine, a waist deep pond set to the right, and a large cabin that was placed before the mouth of a decent sized cave.

**_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Once everything was settled inside Saphira retreated to her cave to feast upon two large elk she had killed. She waited for Eragon and Murtagh to remove several useful items such as fur, hide, and horn from them before tearing in. "Well then," said Angela as she reappeared in a long linen gown and thick woolen socks, "shall we get dinner started." The boys agreed, waiting to bathe their fish scented selves, as they all set upon the kitchen. Soon the smell of a lovely venison stew filled the cabin. They washed it down with mulled juniper wine and crab apple mead, that had grown on them over time and which Saphira willingly drank by the barrel. After finishing their meal Solembum melded back into his werecat form and slunk out to be with Saphira.

Eragon and Murtagh bathed, stripping their soiled clothes, and then joined Angela in the den. The three of them looked into the roaring fire pit. It was made from one large cylinder of stone. It had been molded by Saphira. She had created a depression in the cave, now lined with pads full of feathers made for her by Murtagh last Yuletide, using her fire. She had licked and rolled the almost molten stone into a single shape, forming it into the meter wide pit that now sat at the center of their living space.

"Two years." Angela and Eragon looked up. "And now three," stated Murtagh. The two of them nodded. Three years now they had spent in the North. Eragon was now a young man of nineteen, Murtagh twenty-two, and Angela still refused to tell her age though they knew it was certainly not what it seemed. She hadn’t aged a single day.

"Have you come any closer to making a decision?" Eragon looked at Angela and slowly shook his head no. She nodded, as if that confirmed her thoughts. "Well, young shur'tugal, eventually we'll have to leave our little hidey hole. Though even I must admit I have become fond of this place. So many interesting happenings up here! The plants are rather fascinating." The boys both smiled at her, used to her love of the most simple of things such as fascinating plants.

"I must say that when we decided to leave I didn't think we'd make it. Even when we got here I thought we'd sentenced ourselves to a frozen hell. However this place…it has become home." Murtagh sipped from the stout tea Angela always brewed for everyone before bed.

"Yes, but soon I must make a decision and then go from there. Angela, you said you had taught me almost everything you could think of?" His voiced carried a sound of hope, as if he wished for her to say she still had so much more to tell him. The fortune teller turned to him and inspected him with sharp eyes.

"As you know Eragon there are secrets I possess and hold onto dearly. That said...you have progressed far in your training and I am glad to have been a part of it. However, yes I have almost finished with what I can think to teach you at this time. There is still much for you to learn, but you have mastered most of everything I can think of. What I could teach you of tuatha du orothrim was finished a year ago and since then it's been my own subject matter. Only a proper teacher could finish your education and even then I'm sure it wouldn't take long. Then again, you;ll be learning all your life" Eragon nodded. He felt Saphira listening in.

"What do you think," he asked out loud. She projected her voice into the room. **_‘The harsh winter’s might will soon be upon us. If that occurs, we would not be able to move far from here until it is done. So, Eragon and I must make a decision. Soon we must decide.’_ ** Eragon mulled the words over. As always Saphira made sense. He had known for a while, from their conversations and from his feelings for her personally, that she believed for a while that their path was clear. He didn't feel the same way, but hadn't voiced it until now.  **_'I don't know if I'm ready.'_ **

**_'You are ready, little one. We are ready. We chose this path to ensure our ability to survive and we have. Now the time has come to reappear in the world. Our goals for this endeavor are coming to a close. You have been taught well and have grown. Just as I have. Now is the time to reflect…and prepare for the journey ahead.'_ **

Eragon awoke slowly, his thoughts gathering in strength and form. He slipped from bed, shivering in the chill as he pulled a thick throw blanket around himself. He looked around his room. It was sumptuous. The house, a two story affair, was built of pale northern ash and his room held a soapstone basin for washing, with a hollowed area underneath for burning goals to sit and keep the water warm. A large writing desk, a gift from Murtagh, sat in the opposite corner with a matching chair. The window, made from sand Saphira had melted into glass, let in the pale twilight and showed the ground covered in at least a few feet of snow. His large four poster bed was covered in a bearskin comforter and soft sheets. Two large armoires to the left of his bed held most of his clothing and possessions. He lit the two small oil lamps on his night stands with a mumbled, "brisingr."

There was a large chest at the foot of his bed and he waved his hands over it. Glyphs shone for a second and the latches came undone and the top flew open. Within were his most prized possessions. He withdrew some of them and laid them out on the bed. He turned and took two earthenware jugs from beside the basin and left the room. He made four trips and filled the tub with frigid ice water. He had had to crack the surface of the lake to get to it. He took coals from the armoire, made of charcoal and creosote from pine. Despite the fact that it left a thick tar like substance after burning, the creosote helped suffuse the air with a pleasant scent.

He brought the fire to a good level, safe enough for the room, and waited as the water heated. Once it was warm enough he bathed, rubbing himself down with a horse hair brush made from excess hairs cut from Tornac, Murtagh's faithful war-horse. After he was dry he observed his possessions. Undergarments and a tunic of creamy white, made from the fibers of a northern reed called veil willow, a pair of black hide trousers, and thick woolen socks. He dressed himself and pulled on his greaved boots. A jerkin of padded leather, black with a sewn in harness to attach his weapons to, completed his ensemble. He pulled on his gloves and left the room.

Angela, Murtagh, and Solembum were already gathered. The herbalist was always the first to awake. Steaming mugs of coffee in earthenware cups in the shape of owls with a tin cream cup sat on the side of the large fire pit. He greeted them both and sipped his coffee, his morning ritual when waking up.

"So," said Murtagh as three sets of eyes trained on him, "we have a large quantity of things to trade. I assumed that by now we'd be looking to apply all of this to trading for our journey."

"I've thought so as well....but if it isn't, if we decide to remain some more, there are quite a few odds and ends I'd like to purchase." Angela was always procuring the most ridiculous items or supplies that ended up being dreadfully useful. Eragon continued to look at the fire that warmed the center of their home. He sat in contemplation till Solembum dug his claw into his leg. He looked at the werecat and scowled.

"What," he snapped. Solembum looked at him with haughty derision, which Angela called a classic cat look. Solembum blinked.

**_‘It is time Oh Dragon Rider. Time to set out on the next step of your journey. It was I who decided to follow you and Angela came with. For three years you have grown and so has Brightscales. Now is the time to begin the next step.’_ ** He spoke in the Ancient Language. He spoke what he felt was the truth.

"Saphira," he said out loud. Her mind touched everyone. They could sense finality with an underlying sense of obviousness emanating through her.

**_‘I have always known our path Little One. It is time.’_ ** A great weight settled upon Eragon.  **_'So…it is indeed time to leave.'_ **

**_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________**

**Next Chapter: The five companions begin their fellowship. Eragon becomes troubled and an interesting event occurs as they near their first stop in their journey south.**


	2. The Leave Taking, Road Song, and Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions say their goodbyes and move on south

Eragon awoke with a start. He lunged upwards in bed pulling his knife from underneath the pillow. He breathed in, his breath heavy, and took huge gulps of air. The nightmares had caused a thick sheen of sweat to break out over his body. The chill night air quickly made him turn from boiling hot to freezing cold. The memories still came to him in flashes.

_Red…Black…Pain…Anguish. Eragon looked at the crystal tomb of Brom, tears flowing freely as he beheld the storyteller who had become both mentor and a surrogate father after Garrow. So much he wished to ask him. About his life as a rider, why he hadn't told him, the Varden, and more…_

Eragon slowly put the knife down and rubbed at his eyes. He hated this. For the third night in a row, ever since he had made the decision to journey south, he had been unable to get a full night's sleep. He could feel his body and mind straining at the lack of rest. He squeezed his eyes shut again as another memory leapt forth unwelcomed.

_Murtagh poked at the fire, a sour expression on his face, and grinded his teeth. Eragon looked at him; hollow eyed and weighed down by grief, as he waited for the man to speak. After a while he looked up and said one word with such finality, "No."_

Suddenly a feeling of warmth engulfed him. _**'Little One.'**_ Saphira's mind melded with his and swept away the memories like cobwebs. He could feel her concern emanating across the mental bond. He was silently thankful for her concern, but he knew he needed to delve deeper to solve these issues. It would begin to affect him noticeably were he so tired all the time. _**'Meditate as you learned from your readings.'**_ The suggestion from Saphira was a good one. He always felt rested after meditating.

He stood and sat on the bare floor, the cold wood like a strong shock to his skin, and breathed deeply and evenly before untethering his mind. Even though it was winter, the world around him teemed with life. Coniferous trees and rodents were in abundance, the sea teemed with life deep below the crashing waves, and the bright lights of his companions' were as radiant as the sun. All that was save Angela and Eragon had long stopped enquiring why she seemed to only possess gossamer strands of starlight around her figure when he meditated. She had guffawed, "well clearly I'm made of starlight and those aren't very bright in comparison to Aiedail now are they." She had then set off into her greenhouse with a twirling of skirts while Eragon had just stood there, frustrated.

Soon he lost himself in the world, letting his mind flit from one place to another. He was never able to focus long when connecting with the whole forest, but he found it odd his concentration was even less fixed. It was a soft chorus of constant voices and concerns. He forced himself to breathe and after a while felt his body relax and come to a resting point. He pulled his mind back into his body. Saphira's consciousness met him, emanating a calm stoicism. He smiled slightly at that. She was ever his present guardian.

 _ **'What time is it? I have lost track.'**_ He felt her leave her padded nest and yawn as she approached the cave mouth. A light flurry rained down.

 _ **'Tis the hour of twilight when the world still rests, but I feel Solembum, Angela, and Murtagh stirring. You got a few hours which is better than nothing,'**_ she tacked on with annoyance. He knew she wasn't annoyed with him, but at how these nightmares plagued him. Eragon stood and murmured a spell. A blue werelight lit above the basin and he washed by its light.

 _ **'It'll be a long time before I can enjoy a consistent wash again.'**_ He felt Saphira's amusement at this.

 _ **'I could give you a tongue bath.'**_ He winced. Her barbed tongue had stripped many a deer of hide and flesh in click clean swipes. _**'I thought as much.'**_ She was smug.

He toweled off and garbed himself. A henley shirt of charcoal grey black hide trousers and jerkin. Pauldrons and vambraces of knotted leather with engravings of elder trees with moonstone leaves and soft boots lined with wool that went to his knees warmed his feet on the cold morning. He shrugged on his jacket before turning to the trunk.

He unlocked the glyphs and opened the top. He stared down at the neatly packaged items, the valuables wrapped for the harsh journey ahead. He leaned down and pulled out a massive tome bound in what looked like gray skin. He unclasped the twin bronze buckles in the shape of dragon's heads and let the book fall open. The pages were old and almost hummed with energy.

"Du Domia abr Blodh," he murmured. It was one of the two compendiums Angela had given him. It was an old book and its power seemed to seep from the pages. At first it had also seemed to have a malevolent air. Now, after learning many of its secrets hidden beneath the arcane runes, he couldn't imagine being without it. He put it on the bed and wrapped it up in the sheets and fur comforter. He then placed the bundle in the trunk and closed it. With a murmured spell the trunk lifted upwards and glided out the open door. He then looked around.

The armoires, desk, and any other containers were empty of their contents. The oil lamps were packed with other fragile valuables in padded containers or crates. He hated leaving the furniture behind, but it was completely impractical to take it all. He could feel Saphira's own wishes of wanting to take her padded cave depression.

 _ **'I thought we had grown strong and hardy up here, but maybe we've become complacent with these comforts.'**_ He heard her snap her jaws over the link.

 _ **'And why shouldn't a dragon or rider enjoy comforts,'**_ she said as she left the cave and marched through the snow. _**'Also why didn't any of you listen to me about this weather? I made it clear during high autumn we should leave before the winter. Not right as it bloody well starts.'**_

He strapped on his weaponry that lay on the bed and left the room as he told her, again, _**'we need to get to Tordsed. There are supplies we need now if we want to make the journey. We know the area well enough and have it mapped. Angela can navigate the wagon and you can lift it if we have issues. If we encounter storms we can wait them out in the Depth Reaches.'**_

' _ **Thank you Eragon, for reminding me of our plan for the tenth time.'**_

He tumbled down the stairs and set about making coffee and tea in the kitchens as well as setting aside jerky and porridge for their morning meal.

Angela appeared just as he finished ladling the mixture of oats, milk, and honey into bowls. Solembum jumped up in cat form and immediately chowed down on the bowl of liver he put out for him. She patted Eragon blearily on the cheek as she sat to eat. They ate in companionable silence. Both knew they didn't need to say much of anything.

A few minutes later Murtagh still hadn't awoken so Solembum crept into his room. Within seconds they heard it. "Blasted oversized house cat! What in Angvard's name did you do that for? Get out of here before IIIIIARRRGHHH." They heard a splash of water, a further howl of annoyance, and the sound of Solembum bouncing off the landing, onto the floor, and out the door to join Saphira. They both looked at each other and burst out laughing.

They heard the splashes as Murtagh sunk into his own basin, a simple treated basin of pine. "It's a wash basin, don't need something fancy like out of Uru'baen," he had grumbled when Angela kept bothering him about the silliness of making two lovely basins for them and not a third. The sound of slamming dressers and thuds of him on the stair greeted them as he bound into the kitchen. "That bloody cat of yours," he was cut off with Angela looking up and immediately quipping.

"Will skin you alive faster than you can pull that steel toothpick out of its tube," she then sipped her tea and raised an eyebrow. Murtagh grumbled and sat down and began shoveling food into his mouth. Eragon frowned.

"You don't plan on wearing that in the village do you? Because they may despise the King more so than many others I've known all my life, but I still don't want to tempt them. It's bad enough we're armed to the teeth and leaving. That'll raise enough questions without that sword adding to it." Murtagh gave him an incredulous look.

"Of course I'm not wearing Zar'roc in the village, but for now I'll keep it. Rather have it on the road than not at all. I'll tuck it away and put on my other when we're close. If I wore it I might as well announce with heralds and trumpets that we're traveling with a rider or, even worse, they'll think I'm a rider."

"Why would we have need of trumpets or heralds, ghastly annoying things that they are. Now haul to and get cracking. We want to be out of here before the next snowfall." Angela stood and took her items to wash in the lake and pack in the covered wagon. She always chimed in when it was time to crack their heads together. "Young cubs are always rather…well…stupid," is what she had told them many times with a dry voice. They looked at each other and blinked like owls.

"Sometimes she's so…" Murtagh trailed off and looked at Eragon. He smirked and tacked on, "direct?" Murtagh nodded.

"Yet most times she's more slippery than a weasel coated in whale oil," Eragon stated as they washed their dishes in the frigid lake. They both gave them to Angela who was checking a parchment list in the back of the massive wagon. It was rather long at a good fifteen feet and about as high as Saphira's shoulder was when they first arrived in the North. It was rather thick in width too which helped them pack a good deal of items. She packed the last few things and went to the front where Tornac and Snowfire, well-muscled from all of their mountainous adventures, were saddled up to the wagon and ready to go.

"Everything all set?" Murtagh may have asked about the journey, but he looked at their house with clear longing. The bottom foundation of blue stone sheets, molded together with Saphira's flames, held up the thick white pine boards that created their northern abode. The veranda encircling it held all sorts of wild mountain flowers during the summer. The brass lamps that hung on either side of the door had been taken down and set inside. The opaque winter morning light glinted off the glass set in the windows that were carved with twirling owls and trees.

"I'll miss it too believe it or not." They turned. Angela's face had a look of profound sadness. "When Solembum made it his clear wish to follow you both I couldn't help but wonder if the spicy events of life would be lost up here, but alas they were not. It's been rather fun these three years. I particularly liked the second spring when Eragon fell into that ice flow." Murtagh roared with laughter as Eragon took on a rather dour expression. You let a seagull surprise you once and suddenly that's all that's talked about.

 _ **'Enough,'**_ Saphira's voice was firm as she stomped up to all of them with Solembum resting like a limp chicken on her bony head. _**'We will return one day. You,'**_ she said looking at Eragon, _**'have placed enough wards to ensure it will be decently protected. Angela, you have done your part as well in setting surprises for intruders, and we will return. Now let us leave this place before this daughter of the wind decides to get you all moving with tooth and claw.'**_ Solembum jumped down as Saphira spread her wings and roared her challenge to the world. The last free rider and dragon were returning to Alagaesia.

* * *

The harsh words of an Urgal traveling song met Eragon's lightly tapered ears as Angela sang of a traveling raven and crow, a favorite song for the road of hers, as Saphira lazily passed overhead of the wagon. It was early midday, Aiedail starting to descend from its apex. They had made quick progress through the pine forest thanks to the spelled lodestones of quartz set into the wagon's wheels. They allowed the wagon to work through snow and slush as well as the patches of ice which melted as if met by a white hot iron. _**'We're lucky though. We haven't met the mountain trails yet.'**_ Solembum rode on his back in cat form. Eragon grunted in agreement. The mountain passes would be nothing but difficult.

Murtagh rode next to Angela, the blade he hated so much, Zar'roc, belted at his side. Eragon scanned the horizon. Snow capped peaks, thick wintry forests, and the smell of the salt sea suffused his senses. 'I'll miss this.' He then heard a whistle and looked down. The wagon had stopped and Murtagh motioned for him to descend. Saphira landed and he lunged down. "What is it?" Murtagh motioned to a set of tracks that Angela was inspecting.

"Angela,' queried Eragon as he came next to her. She was bent down, her traveling cloak billowing around her.

"Urgal, by the looks of it, maybe attracted to my song," she said cheerily as she looked up. She immediately frowned and rolled her eyes. "Oh come now! Get off it you two blockheads. They're not so bad. You really ought to be more cosmopolitan." Murtagh and Eragon had both stiffened, with Murtagh drawing Zar'roc slightly from the sheath.

"Cosmopolitan? After what they did in Yazuac?" Angela again rolled her eyes and turned away. She retrieved a jeweled poniard from beneath her robes as she noticed something. She again kneeled down.

This time she waved them forward and pointed. "Blood. It's fresh." Eragon and Saphira set their minds together and out into the land. They felt the black squirrels, reindeer, and other animals fill with fear as their minds were invaded by the two. Murtagh and Angela watched apprehensively. Eragon's eyes burst open. He drew twin falchions from his back.

"This way," he pointed down towards the cliffs. He crouched and sprang up into the air, twisting into a corkscrew and landed lightly on a branch. He then looped tree to tree. Murtagh went wide to the left with Zar'roc drawn to his right side in a defensive stance. Angela followed him through the trees as Solembum circled to the right. Saphira followed in the air, making sure to fly high enough that she wouldn't be completely visible. Soon enough the roars of battle reached their ears.

They regrouped in the lower branches of a fir tree and watched in amazement as an urgal fought unarmed with a cave bear. The urgal was easily seven and a half feet. He'd clearly reach Kull status. His twisted horns were covered with gore and filth, much like the rest of his body. The bear was no better. Eragon felt Saphira's interest in the proceedings grow as the Urgal bellowed and leapt away from a claw swipe. He then reared back and landed a hard right hook to the bear's jaw. It roared in anguish. "Fascinating," whispered Angela. Murtagh looked at her incredulously.

"It punched a cave bear in the jaw. That sounds rather stupid to me. On top of that he clearly must've woken it. It's winter. Again something to be called stupid." Angela gave him a peeved look.

"We're watching a rite of passage. Urgal's must kill a foe with bare hands to be considered a full member of their society. Even most of them wouldn't dare fight a cave bear." They watched as the Urgal tossed himself on top of the bear's back and wrapped his thick gray skinned arms around its throat. With a mighty heave and roar he pulled the bear's head to the side and they all winced as they heard a great big snap. The head lolled to the side and Eragon felt the bear's life force leave its body. The urgal dropped it, stepped back, and looked at the corpse. He then threw back his head and roared once more and raised his arms. He then began crooning something in his native tongue.

 _ **'As riveting as this is,'**_ interrupted Solembum, _**'we'd best be off before he lugs it back to his village. We don't need the awkward rumors even if it is among the Urgralgra.'**_ He then leapt to a tree, bounded to the floor, and began slinking back to the wagon. Eragon couldn't help but agree. "On the road again," he muttered.

* * *

By sunset they reached Tordsed. Tordsed was the largest, and that was saying something, settlement north of Ceunon. It lay on a peninsula jutting out into the tongue of the sea that reached down all the way to his old home of Carvahall. The peninsula was close to the narrow opening that led out to the sea. Thanks to the spelled wagon they arrived with good timing, but normally the journeys took them a good day and a half, more if the weather was bad. They would have arrived just as the sun's bottom hit the horizon, but the detour due to the urgal had consumed time. Eragon was glad they had left in early twilight and spelled the wagon the first day of planning for their trip.

 _ **'Where will you lay,'**_ he asked Saphira. She sent him an image of a cavern, shallow, but high above them and insulated enough from cold.

 _ **'Close enough if there is trouble yet far enough to avoid suspicion. I will hunt now for I have need of energy for the tasks ahead.'**_ She then flew off into a valley to hunt a herd she had seen grazing. She would indeed need energy. She would be carrying the wagon under cover of darkness to the other side of the sea tongue.

Eragon and Murtagh saddled the horses as Solembum switched into his human form and donned soft gray garments. He strapped the black dagger he fought with to his side and covered up his clawed hands with gloves. The village was surrounded by twin palisades with a thick trench full of sharpened stakes in the ground. The gates were iron bound and tar smeared. As they approached, the wary guards, engulfed by fur cloaks, but sharp eyed and wielding wicked looking pikes, perked up at the sight of them.

"Ho' Evan! And Tanner, Lady Ella, and young Noll too!" Eragon smiled pleasantly. He always liked Baelrick and hoped that one day he could introduce his real self. However self-preservation came first.

"Hello Baelrick," he said adopting his thick hoarse voice he used when there. "How has the night's watch been? Hello to you Galbur," he added nodding to his counterpart who smiled and waved in return.

"Been right nasty Evan, right nasty. Urgals are more stirred up than ever and the flocks are more disturbed than usual. Crops didn' grow enough this summer, which's normal considerin, but not like this. Somethin ain't right in the world." The four of them perked up at that. They always listened for news. Angela frowned and leaned forward, "really now? Well this might explain happenings up by us and hence our decision." Both guards became somber and nodded, but didn't take the bait and engage in more gossip.

"Yar we heard from young Pedrin you had decided to leave for warmer climates. Near Surda if what we heard is true," said Galbur. The four nodded and Murtagh launched into the tale they had constructed.

"Yes my sister's family lives in a village known as Eastcroft, along the plains. Too close to that blackened King for my taste, but too many harsh happenings. Need a change of scenery, but mayhaps we're back one day." Murtagh had ridden Saphira down a few leagues to the home of Pedrin and his extended family. They were hunters, skinners, and tanners who maintained a small farm in the spring and summer. They had taken a message from Murtagh that informed their village contacts of their plan to leave. It would help cover their tracks with others supporting their story.

"Well we'd best be going in, sun is almost down and you'll want to close the gate," said Angela cheerily. They nodded and stepped aside to let them pass while incurring promises to join the villagers for a drink in the tavern so they could say farewells. After they passed through Murtagh said, "step one complete…and Eragon cast a damn spell to cover those spear tips you call ears!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Eragon's dreams continue and grow in length. What is he reliving, but most importantly why? On top of that the companions gather supplies and some news in Tordsed. What will they hear and how will they react?


	3. Dark Tidings in Tordsed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The characters face enemies far sooner than they'd like

* * *

" _No," asked Eragon with incredulity. Murtagh picked his chin up further and stared at him, stone faced._

" _No." Eragon felt his annoyance turn to anger and immediately wanted to hurl an argument against him. Saphira fanned her wings, the fire sending a dizzying array of shadows around the camp. She spoke with a serene voice._

' _Let him speak.' She turned to Murtagh. 'Why, swordsman, are you so obstinate to this course of action?' He refused to meet her gaze. She huffed, smoke slipping from her nostrils. 'Shall I pin you underneath my tender claws to get an answer?' He jerked away as she tapped her talons in succession on the hard earth. She leaned her huge head down and nudged him till he looked her in one of her brilliant blue eyes._

_Murtagh finally turned to Eragon, looking more peeved than anything, and falsely started before rushing out with it. "I can't go to the Varden. They will want and ask me of things I cannot give or even pretend to promise to give. Going to them would be as bad as going to Gil'ead." As Eragon opened his mouth to protest the surface argument Murtagh rushed on. "I heard things Eragon, right before I escaped, and they set a pit in my stomach that I haven't felt since a young child!"_

_He stood and paced like a mad man; his fists set to his temples, and went on. "Northern lords compensated generously, rumors of massive troop movements; Gil'ead was mentioned numerous times, more than it should even though it's the marshaling point for Galbatorix's army. The Varden were consistently discussed and I even heard mentions of dwarves. Whatever is going on it has set the country aflame and_ _**I do not want any part of it!** _ _" He bellowed his final words._

_Eragon leaped up determined and angry…_

Eragon's eyes flew open and he sucked in a lungful of air. This seemed to be the norm for him now. He saw a slight light and looked down. His hand, hanging off the side of the bed, was aglow. The gedwey ignasia was burning as bright as possible, like a miniature lantern. He stared at the diffused oval and breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Saphira clambered into his thoughts. He melded with her, sharing the dream, and how he awoke suddenly. She was tense. _**'You are reliving the decision.'**_ She spoke with a sense of foreboding and concern. He nodded, though she could not see him. He hunched over and put his hands in his lap, staring down.

"Why though," he muttered, "why is this happening? What good comes of reliving a decision I made and stuck to three years ago?" He decided to meditate on the matter. He sat in the proper position and immediately cast his mind outwards as he evened out his breathing. Suddenly he was met with the feeling of his mind shooting in all directions. Saphira growled low in his mind as he attempted to rein in his thoughts.

* * *

"You look like a salmon fresh up the river," greeted Angela cheerily as Eragon wandered into the common room of The Claw Hearth which was Tordsed's tavern and inn. A three floored building of thick logs, a double thatched roof, and good food and drink which was an excellent way station for the north. Many traders, especially whalers and those who traveled to the northern isles for the seithr plant, stopped there on the journey. He slumped into his seat. They had arrived in Tordsed and parked the wagon, securing it, and paid for rooms.

"Nervous about the journey," he mumbled. No use in troubling everyone else on top of Saphira. Solembum seemed to care less as he gulped down a glass of thick cream. Murtagh was counting out coins. He handed the largest amount to Angela who pocketed them with a grin. He pushed the rest towards Eragon.

"I'm nervous too, and I have close to as much reason as you do, unlike little miss sunshine over here or the overgrown house cat" Angela gave a rude gesture and deadpan look while Solembum hissed. "Spending the coin on what we need should put you at ease, especially since you'll be getting arrows, and don't forget to get provisions of meat and cured vegetables. With what you buy we'll have enough till we reach Belatona."

"Yes, yes, yes all's well and good with his stick thrower and the need for goodies. I still have more important things to buy and best be cracking. Watch out for wild hamsters." She stood and glided out the tavern, Solembum quick on her heels, as Murtagh blinked like an owl. Eragon ordered tea and breakfast.

"Well then…I best get to the smithy. Need a new hammer head and a good helping of nails for the wagon." He clasped Eragon on the arm and left, leaving coins behind to pay for his breakfast beer and sausage. Eragon mumbled his thanks as Marvum, a buxom young lass Murtagh routinely sought out when in Tordsed, put a plate of bacon, eggs, and fresh bread with wildberry preserve in front of him. He smiled in thanks and dug in. _**'I'll need the energy,'**_ he thought with annoyance. Day Four of little sleep and he was growing more annoyed by the hour.

Eragon finished, paid, and sought out the general goods store. Normally he'd have gone to the smithy for arrows, but the general good store served as a jack of all trades in a way. It was a trading post for trappers, hunters, and other such professionals, a supply shop, and also a good place to hear gossip. Eragon stomped inside and looked around at the neat wooden shelves with everything on them from woven woolen blankets to raw walrus tusks. Behind a tall whitewashed counter to the back stood Meachum. He approached him and stuck out his hand. Meachum grasped it.

"Bye the Gods, Evan, I hear this is th' last I'll be seein' you." Eragon smiled ruefully.

"Fraid' so, friend," he said, adopting his accent. "These three years have been good, but as you know many a strange tiding has come. Time to relocate to friendlier climates. Thought we could escape by coming north and settling by the sea. Now I'd rather waste away in that blasted desert." They laughed together.

"Can't say I blame ya', but then again I could never leave. It's home, has been for me for too many years, but I understand." They shared a sad knowing look. Meachum looked away eventually.

"So," he said turning around and slapping his wrinkled fist on the counter, "what can I get ya?" Eragon smiled.

"I need a good four dozen arrows, ready for flight, as well as a crate of cured meat. Salted pork and venison if you have it. Two crates of cured vegetables round out my order." Eragon withdrew the leather drawstring bag of coins. Meachum nodded and began picking out the supplies. Four bundles of arrows wrapped in twine and three identical pine crates were piled high on the counter. Eragon counted out the crowns, leaving his bag considerably lighter. "When you load all this, come on back, got somethin' for ya." Eragon frowned.

"Tha' won't be necessary, Meachum. You've done en," he was cut off by the sound of the quartz stone bell going off above the door. They both turned and looked. Meachum stiffened and Eragon felt his insides go cold. Two soldiers, red flames outlined with gold thread on their surcoats, entered and began perusing the shelves. They both watched the soldiers as if a deadly predator had entered their territory.

"Go, an' don' come back till they be gone," whispered Meachum. Eragon didn't need telling twice. He thanked Meachum with a thicker accent than usual and false cheer. He piled his provisions and nudged open the door, keeping his pace even as he walked to the overhang of the inn. Murtagh stood next to Tornac, unsaddled from the wagon, and was brushing him down. A bundle of nails and a new hammer sat on the wagon seat. Eragon dumped the items unceremoniously and looked at Murtagh who stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Imperial soldiers, at Meachum's."

"Get Angela and Solembum **now,** " Murtagh strode inside the inn. He cast out his mind and immediately pulled it back in. It had rushed everywhere and anywhere. _**'Fool,'**_ he said to himself, _**'what if they have magicians?'**_ He breathed deep for a few moments before locking down a tendril of thought, with difficulty, and spreading it outward. It took him much longer than usual, and he was panting by the end, but he contacted the two and informed them.

_**'On our way,'**_ said Angela in a tight voice. She then blocked him off. Eragon retreated into his mind. Thankful for the rider's mental link, he roared across it.

_'_ _ **Saphira!**_ _'_ She came to him and he felt her immediately take flight as she processed what was going on.

_**'I'll be flying quick and high, but right above, if there's trouble we'll need to leave fast. Make sure the wagon straps are ready to go. You can all ride the horses to the crossing.'**_ Eragon looked up as Angela and Solembum walked up with Murtagh. She withdrew her jeweled poniard, steel but the handle carved from fire opals and set with silver. In her other hand was a vial of acrid green potion. Solembum's eyes darted in all directions as he backed himself to a post. Murtagh held his hand-and-a-half sword at his side. Wrapped in cloth across his back was Zar'roc. His black ash composite bow, strung, was in his hand, an arrow clutched as well.

"By Rahna's left tit! I had heard rumors at the healer's shop that soldiers had been appearing. It matches what we heard last night at supper. Blast it!" Angela set her mouth tightly, lines appearing at the corner of her lips. Murtagh nodded.

"Baelrick's son, Alden, is an apprentice at Cahl's, and he said they have moved more and more troops to the Spine than they have ever seen. I didn't think we'd run in to any because I'd have imagined we would've seen them in Claw Hearth and on the road." Eragon looked around. He spotted one soldier enter through the gate on horseback. Angela followed his eyes and waved everyone further into the lean to lest they look suspicious.

"First off," Angela motioned to her and Murtagh, "we need to be more circumspect lest we are noticed." She sheathed her weapon and Murtagh grumbled but did the same.

"Secondly," stated Eragon, "for all we know this is merely the Empire reasserting control over areas long known to not be cared for? We need more information." Eragon pressed a hand to his temple, his head was throbbing. Angela brightened at that, her mood changing.

"The young rider has a head on his shoulders. All this frigid weather hasn't frozen your brain after all." He looked at her, looked at her jeweled poniard, and then looked back. She looked down then stared back before huffing, "oh like I can't have a flippant reaction every now and again. Excuse me if I don't want to leave Tordsed with my skirts a-twirling at a hail of spears."

"Enough. Eragon's right. We'll need more info. The soldiers will be bound to be in the inn tonight. We can work sources there." Eragon then informed them of Saphira's request which they both agreed with. They retrieved the large hide thongs that strapped through loops on four posts around the wagon. After they agreed upon a meeting time Eragon told them he had to go back to Meachum's and they still had to acquire supplies. As he wandered back to the store, albeit eyes jumping here and there, Saphira contacted him.

_**'We should leave Tordsed sooner rather than later,'**_ and Eragon couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Meachum looked up and his face immediately softened as Eragon came back. Clearly he was expecting the soldiers. Eragon grimaced, "any news out o' them?" The storekeeper nodded and motioned him forward.

"I had been tryin' for days to get somethin' out o' them and finally worked. Seems the King is goin' after them Urgals again. Wants 'em all dead s'far as the soldiers could tell. Said old Galbatorix is in a right state abou' somethin' happenin' a few years back. Somethin' with them and he don' mean when his army disappeared into those blasted mountains." Eragon made a noise of acknowledgment and introspection. He put his chin in his hand.

'What could the Urgals have done that he's this upset…' He felt Saphira's interest in the matter and heard her own thoughts begin to form ideas.

"Well…seems a smarte' decision than ever to leave then," said Meachum breaking Eragon out of his thoughts. He smiled sadly and nodded.

"So you said ya wanted me back," he gestured wide, "so here I am." Meachum grinned at that and set down the sea glass lamp he was polishing. He left the room and came back with another crate and set it down.

"Here ya go," and motioned for Eragon to look inside. Within he found two dozen arrows, elm shafted and fletched with osprey feathers. The ends were barbed and crafted of steel. They were finer than most of the arrows he had purchased before in the north. A pile of meat wrapped in cloth was next to them, and rounding it out was a small wooden chest and a length of white rope. Eragon looked up smiling sheepishly.

"This wasn't necessary," he told Meachum who waved him off.

"You'll be on th' road Evan," he said with a firm voice, "you'll all need as much as ya can get. Thought I could help a littl' is all." Eragon's cheeks burned. The generosity of these hardy survivors always surprised him. He reached down for the small wooden chest and popped it open. He was met with a large pile of russet colored leaves, dried. He looked up and cocked his head to the side.

"That'd be wild nightfoil. Dried. Makes a fine healin' tea if ya ask me." Eragon closed it and put it back. He looked up and put his hand forth. Meachum grasped it.

"Forge ahead, Meachum."

"Live well, Evan."

* * *

Night fell quickly and Eragon found that he was exhausted more than normal as was quickly becoming the normal for him. However he did meet with Murtagh, Angela, and Solembum on the porch of the inn at the agreed upon time. They entered the noisy and crowded establishment. Murtagh smirked at Marvum whose apple cheeks burned a deeper shade of red. She led them to a table where Solembum looked at Murtagh and quipped two words before ducking away from Murtagh's attempted head slap, "man whore." Baelrick and others joined them as Fendrick, the owner and barkeep, set down a plate of mountain goat and slabs of pork. Caramelized onions and rosemary potatoes with diced carrots followed. It ended with several large flagons of blackberry mead and honey ale. Everyone dug in with gusto, sharing stories of the last three years, laughing uproariously at the seagull surprise and subsequent fall into an iceflow which was told with much joy by Angela.

Eragon leaned back after draining another glass of mead. The smell of coal dust, roasted meat, and the sweetness of the mead filled his nostrils with a pleasant aroma. He felt relaxed for the first time in days. However this was not to last as a boisterous group of five soldiers appeared in the doorway. One of them immediately pinched Marvum in the bottom and winked as he demanded a table for him and his comrades. Murtagh, Balerick, and the others stiffened. Angela leant forward ever so slightly so only Murtagh and Eragon would hear.

"Remember, don't cause a scene. We need information. Eragon you told us the king wants the Urgals gone. And it's because of some disaster from around the time we moved north. We need to know why he's onto this endeavor again. Don't blow this up," she grasped Murtagh's wrist which had gone to his sword.

Eragon heard a thump and watched as Solembum slunk into the shadows. He followed him with his eyes and watched as a blur of shadow appeared in the high rafters, slinking from shaded spot to shaded spot. He set himself down directly above the soldiers, he's ears perked up, and eyes closed. Nobody would see him unless they looked intently. He leaned to Angela and motioned surreptitiously. She looked up, narrowed her eyes, and quickly excused herself for the privy. She returned a few minutes later, her bag curiously larger.

Baelrick watched with narrowed eyes, lines of disdain set on his face, as the soldiers made complete fools of themselves. Fendrick took it upon himself to serve them; saving Marvum, but they seemed intent on bothering her as she couldn't avoid their table. It was right next to the kitchen doors. "Tell me, Baelrick, any truth to the rumors we heard of the King trying to wipe out the Urgals again," Angela used a perfectly light tone and sipped her mulled dessert wine. He looked at her, grim, and shrugged.

"No, ma'am, not so sure at all." He leaned forward, and folks looked at him intently. "Rumor is that he's tryin' to wipe 'em, but truth be told I hear somethin' else. I hear he's lookin' for somethin', somethin' he wants. Soldiers have been talkin' bout diggin' somethin' up even further north of here. The Frost Tip is said to be where they are all headed." Angela's eyebrows went up at this and she looked at him with more curiosity.

"Really now," she nodded, "that's a rather odd place. I can't imagine anyone having gone there since…" Baelrick nodded.

"Since the Riders flew over the land."

* * *

_Eragon leapt up. "Well if you'd just tell me what exactly the problem is then maybe I would understand further! I don't care about rumors. Brom didn't die for me to wander around the Empire or flee from Galbatorix! He taught me a great deal, but if anything he made it clear Saphira and I would be forced to face him one day! If we are to do that we need to train and have support!" Murtagh laughed derisively._

" _And what makes you think that you could even so much as_ _ **dent**_ _the King's shield even with training? You're a child!" Eragon roared and lunged at him, striking him across the face. Murtagh rolled with the blow and struck back in the gut. He then moved to chop Eragon on the back, but he spun around to Murtagh's back and kicked him hard on the calf. He grunted and fell. As he turned to get up and strike, just as Eragon moved to hit him again, they were both winded as Saphira's massive tail came down upon them._

' _ **ENOUGH**_ _,' she roared openly across the mental link accompanied by a barrel chested growl. Eragon's headache became worse at that and Murtagh was taking big gulps of air to compensate._

' _A rider and his savior brawling like common brats! What would Brom say!?' Her head appeared above them both. Eragon's cheeks burned and he turned away. 'Look at me, now, Eragon. You too Murtagh.' He did. She stared for a while and then spoke with clipped tones, 'I will let you up if you promise to hear me out and to_ _ **not**_ _fight one another. If you do neither of these things I will pin you both, with claw this time, and wait till morn.' After a while they both nodded and got to their feet, wincing, and moving away._

' _Better,' she said with a tone that implied a smirk. She then settled herself down, her voice prim. 'Now, I am tired, full of sorrow for the Old One, and hungry for both prey, and the blood of those foul Ra'zac. That said we have a legitimate dilemma that must be solved_ _ **now**_ _.' Both men just crossed their arms. She looked back and forth before continuing._

' _Murtagh, will you still refuse to travel to Gil'ead, to the man Brom instructed me on?' He jerked his head yes. She stared at him for a long while and her tongue darted out. He backed away. 'I smell fear on you. An unhealthy amount for one so strong,' she then turned away as he scowled. 'Eragon.'_

_He looked at her. 'What, Little One, do you wish to do? We can part ways, journey with him, or chart some middle course though I currently see none. Think wisely and quickly…'_

A hand batted at Eragon's face. He groaned and thrust at it. Again it batted at him. He realized it was a fur paw and that something was sitting on him. He pulled himself upwards and drew his knife, but it was knocked aside by Solembum who was nose to nose with him. _**'You realize how stupid that was, right?'**_ He just blinked at the cat before scowling and flopping back while rubbing at his face. He looked out the window and groaned. It had been night when he fell asleep, Solembum refusing to tell them what he had heard, and it was still night now.

_**'You slept a handful of hours. You really ought to do something about this dream problem of yours.'**_ With that he leapt off the bed. _**'Come.'**_ He slipped out the open door of his and Murtagh's room. Eragon grumbled as he pulled on his trousers and his boots. Before he left he threw a few logs on the fire of their brazier, making sure to blow on the embers to get it going, for he dared not use magic with the soldiers around.

Solembum waited for him at the stairs and bound down to the first floor. Eragon followed him outside into the frigid air. The moon was low now, it was very early in the morning and he was already feeling his mind strain. He saw the flick of Solembum's tail at the corner and followed. Soon enough they were at the first palisade. Solembum flicked a paw out at the gate. Eragon and he were luckily covered by shadows, but at the gate torches were blazing with light. Soldiers, a good deal of them, saddled horses and filled carts. They were alert and spoke in low voices. They all wore the surcoat of the King's Army, over chainmail hauberks, with coifs, padded leather caps, and jackboots.

He turned to Solembum and whispered, "Do you know if any spellweavers are among them?" The cat flicked his shaggy mane side to side. _**'Damn,'**_ thought Eragon. "What're they saying?"

Solembum flicked his ear in annoyance but spoke, ' _ **they are discussing a dig of some king. Pits of earth and stone…inconsequentially one mentions a soldier he knows who lost a hand…great machines being used to cut through the earth. They search for something…'**_ He trailed off and for a few moments shut his eyes before springing upwards and backing away. His hair was on end. Eragon backed away. If Solembum was worried then he was as well. He dared not speak.

Suddenly a hand crept around his mouth and he jerked in shock. His worry quickly faded as Angela appeared. Her poniard was drawn and three darts of a green wood with yellow feathers were clenched in the same hand. She stared with narrowed eyes at the soldiers. She flicked her eyes to Eragon and whispered something that made his blood run cold. "They mentioned a Shade."

* * *

They stole away back to the inn where they woke Murtagh and Angela related what they had all seen and heard. He swore explosively and got out of bed. "We leave now. Tell Saphira to head for the shoreline." Eragon reached through the link. Saphira hadn't played a role in the rest of the events of the day for she slumbered deeply once assured they weren't in too much danger, just yet. She had eaten and now slept to conserve energy and digest her food. She came to life slowly and then leaped up alert as Eragon relayed one word, _**'Shade.'**_

_**'I'll meet you at the shore. Arm yourself and be ready. Use magic and mind if you have to. Damn everything else.'**_ He bounded downstairs, taking care to be quiet for it was still night, and ducked under the lean to where the wagon stood. He slipped in and found Angela strapping Murtagh into his armor. The pauldrons and vambraces were set together and the piece went over his head, two straps of hard leather crossing his chest in an X. Underneath he wore his mail shirt. Mail-backed leather thigh pads went over his pants and he finished with greaved boots. He strapped Zar'roc and his hand-and-a-half sword to his back.

"Eragon" breathed Angela quickly, "no time for you to don your armor. Murtagh will be the heavy force tonight. You need to help with the wagon." He stared at her with incredulity. She huffed. "Solembum watches the gate and those soldiers aren't moving any time soon. If there is a shade anywhere near here we want to be gone as fast as possible. Crossing the sea tongue is going to be ridiculously difficult now if we have that black sorcerer around."

"What exactly do you have planned?" Eragon did not like where this was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The heroes escape from Tordsed hits a few snags and Eragon faces the consequences of memory and fear.


	4. A Dragon Ferry

It took cajoling and logic to convince Eragon that Angela's quickly thought of plan was the only way. When it had seemed impossible he'd go along Murtagh finally smacked him upside the head. "Brom had plenty of harebrained schemes you fool. How'd you think he killed Morzan? I gamble it's because he was inventive". He pulled on a massive gray wool blanket and crouched low to the ground moving to get in position. Solembum clambered up the side of a house and onto a roof, bounding after him. Angela had changed into a common dress that let her womanly features be shown. With that she pushed at Eragon to get a move on.

He grumbled as he donned common clothing as well. Then they began to remove anything of importance such as the pieces of the catamaran, tent, and their collapsible lean to. When all that remained was normal supplies such as cured foodstuffs and tools they harnessed the horses and pulled the wagon out and angled for the gate. "Let's hope this works," he muttered. Angela hit him.

* * *

"Evening boys," said Angela in a smoky voice, her winter cloak falling open slightly to reveal the low cut front of her dress. Eragon rolled his eyes, lying under the blankets in the back. He had thrown water on his face after rubbing it against the blanket to make it warm and red. He heard the appreciative sounds of the soldiers as they began to converse with Angela, many of them making a not too subtle comment here or there. After what seemed like forever, he had begun to sweat since the blankets were heavy; the sound of hooves approached his tapered ears, now covered by the thick hair of his head as a spell would be too risky.

"What's all of this lagging about," said a stern voice. The soldiers immediately snapped to.

"Oh hello there, you must be their commander. Sorry 'bout this, but tis a cold winters night and my mother taught me to thank those on duty." The commander harrumphed.

"Unlikely considering the less than warm welcome we receive whenever we come here." Angela tut-tutted.

"Come now commander. Don't judge a girl so quickly. I moved here to join my brother's family. There was work for a seamstress and governess in his household. Better it be family then expend what little coin they have on some near-do-well. Wouldn't you agree," and Eragon practically saw his brain, his eyes went so high as he rolled them.

"I'll not be taken in by your wiles woman. What's in the cart," and the sound of him reining his horse closer came as did the thud of a spear shaft bouncing against the side.

"This, good sir, is a wagon," she said coquettishly. "If you must know there are supplies in there and my nephew, deep asleep with fever." Eragon heard some of the soldiers shift away. "Oh come now I'm sure he's not infectious otherwise I'd be done by now." The commander grunted again.

"Darl! Mason! Check the wagon. Now!" With that two soldiers warily approached the back and climbed in. Eragon shut his eyes and set about making his breath raspy and shivered lightly. The soldiers checked over the goods with uninterested eyes as they approached. He could feel them staring down. Angela popped her head through the canvas flap.

"Poor dearie, isn't he?" They continued to look down. The spear shaft bounced against the side of the wagon again.

"Well?" The commander was impatient. One of the two leaned down and removed his glove to feel Eragon's forehead. Hopefully it worked. He pulled back after a few seconds.

"Aye sir. The boy is feverish and covered in sweat. His breath rattles like he be filled with small stones." The commander grunted in a somewhat disappointed manner.

 _ **'Hah,'**_ thought Eragon, _**'take that.'**_ He felt Saphira, who had been watching, sigh. She then grumbled.

 _ **'Don't be so assured yet hatchling. The harebrained part of the scheme comes next.'**_ He saw through her eyes as she flew low to the shoreline and landed. She flattened herself to a rock and began crawling as silently as she could, which was impressive considering the fact she was an "overgrown fire breathing lizard" as Brom fondly called her, to the closest point from where they would depart from.

Angela bandied a few more words, introduced herself as Ella, then made it clear she wished to get on the road to, "get home and take care of the poor boy." The soldiers let her pass, the commander clearly having hoped to catch criminals but having no reason to keep her, and they rode up the road. The moment they were out of sight she pulled the wagon over and pitched the horses to chew on the sparse grass. She leaned in and knocked Eragon on the head. "Up and at em'. Time to go to work."

* * *

Murtagh heaved the package of items upwards. Sweat coated his body and he was warmer than he should've been for the frigid climate. The moon was dropping low in the sky. And he knew they had to work fast. That said it wasn't exactly easy hauling items up a ramp to the palisades walkway, flipping the ramp over the trench to the other palisade, delicately directing things across, and then lowering everything slowly to the ground with ropes at the end.

"Where," he asked in a wheezy voice, "did," he took a deep breath, "you get this damn contraption?" He pushed again and the bundle went up and over to the walkway. Solembum smiled cheekily. He was the picture of grace and poise.

"Fendrick told Angela when she asked what the large slab of pallets was against the other side of the inn's overhang. They set it across the iced over portions of river to help cattle cross when moving them to pastures. Rather silly if you ask me. Should just build a bridge and save yourself the trouble, but I'm rather glad they didn't." Murtagh grimaced as they got to the top.

They began heaving the ramp up, a difficult thing to do quietly. They had tied cloth around the cast iron rails on the bottom to keep it from sounding when they lowered it down as silently as possible. Three times already they had done this, but it was almost done. One more trip and then they'd bring the wagon around, load up, and be off. They lifted slowly, bringing the ramp up horizontally and then sliding it across the trench. Before it could fall it reached the other side and set down with a light thump.

As they heaved the supplies across the ramp, stepping carefully and quietly, Murtagh noticed a cluster of lights start to appear on the left end of the section of the palisade. He stopped and motioned to Solembum. He turned, looked, then quickly looked back and jutted his head forward multiple times. His eyes had gone from black to the yellow slit ones of a feline in an instant. They began moving as fast as possible. Just as they reached the end, with a fair bit of noise, they heard the tramping of iron shod boots as a cluster of soldiers came closer and closer.

"What in the…" started off the leader. He was about to shout at them. Quick as a hummingbird Solembum dropped their load and spun with unnatural speed, lunging forward, his outline becoming blurry, and struck out with his sharp claws as he re-materialized. Two soldiers dropped instantly, but he wasn't quick enough. The soldier in front of him fit a horn to his lips and blew. A jarring noise rang forth and almost instantly the sound of stampeding foots and the cries of soldiers wondering what the commotion was. Solembum leaped and fastened his fangs around the man's throat, felling the soldier who had alerted the others. The final one had had time to draw a short sword and held up his buckler, deflecting Solembum as he leapt again. Without wasting time to check if the soldier was protected by wards Murtagh thrust out his hand.

"Jierda," he growled out. The man's head snapped at a perfect one hundred-eighty degree angle and he fell over the walkway and was impaled on the sharpened staves below. Solembum came bounding back. He transformed and stood in the nude.

"Break the ramp," he yelled as he threw items below, not caring to lower them with the rope. Murtagh turned back and reached for his magic. He looked at the ramp and focused on cracks in the middle pallet.

He drew glyphs in the air for breaking and hissed out, "thrysta," which launched them forward. With a rush the ramp imploded, splintering metal and wood. By now soldiers were running along, following the sounds. Soon lanterns shone across the way and over a dozen soldiers were clear as day. They gaped at the three dead swordsmen and the fourth below. Two had bows and knocked arrows.

"Let's go!" He flipped around, the arrows whizzing by, grabbed onto Solembum, and they leapt over the edge, rappelling to below. They landed hard. Solembum went about gathering everything up. "Barzul! Where is he," Murtagh said with exasperation and worry. He reached out to contact Eragon, but a jarring cacophony of noises and emotions met him.

 _ **'What in the,'**_ he began to think before quickly shoving the thought away. Now was not the time. _**'Saphira,'**_ he bellowed out in his mind, ' _ **contact your damned rider!'**_ He was met with dead silence before she answered.

 _ **'He is on his way, hold tight, and move behind the outcropping of rock a few hundred feet to the northeast from your position. Hurry!'**_ Murtagh relayed the plans to the werecat who gathered up as many items as possible and ran pell-mell. Murtagh dragged the supply bundle behind him, glad that he'd been able to lighten the load. He knew they couldn't abandon these things though. They moved, trying to keep quiet as lights blazed along the perimeter of the palisade and the sounds of the village awakening.

They set down on the gravely shore, behind a slate gray piece of stone weathered smooth by high tide. "Thankfully the causeway to the outer palisade is only next to the front gate and we left out the south western end, otherwise we'd be in trouble." The swordsman nodded distractedly. The moon was ever lower now. It'd be twilight soon.

Unfortunately luck wasn't on their side. Within a handful of minutes the soldiers were on the edge of the perimeter, their lanterns pinpricks and their voices high, and Murtagh was informed by Saphira that she was ready to take flight and scare them, damning secrecy. Just as she reared up, ready to head down the shoreline, despite Solembum's vehement protests, the clip clopping of hooves met them. Eragon and Angela pulled up, the horses rearing. The wagon wheels had been covered by squares of felt, now tattered and useless.

"Load up and get on," Eragon yelled. As he did the soldiers moved towards them. Eragon got down and started to chuck everything in with the werecat and herbalist, Murtagh took the reins and removed his bow from the back along with arrows. It was as Eragon lifted a bundle of tusks, a spearman entered their line of sight and could clearly see the wagon. Murtagh shouted, knocked an arrow, and let fly. The man fell over, pierced through the neck. However more approached and raised their shields, march-running at a steady pace.

"Let's **go**!" Angela tossed in what she was carrying and leapt in, as did Eragon. Murtagh heaved and right as he did Snowfire was met in the side with a spear. He neighed and roared, but this merely succeeded in pulling the wagon to the left, turning it, and with that the horses ran, egged on by Murtagh.

"Eragon, get up here, Snowfire's hurt!" He burst through the canvas and looked down at him. Snowfire was galloping at full strength, the spear embedded in his lower flank. Eragon would have expected more blood until Angela piped up from next to him.

"The spear is stemming the blood loss, but he won't be able to keep up this pace for long, less than a quarter of a league probably." As she said this an arrow soared overhead, striking the ground. They both turned and went to the back of the shaking wagon. Five horsemen were after them, two with bows, three with torches and spears. The whooped and hollered.

"Bloody fools, Eragon," before she could say another word Eragon let three arrows fly in succession. The bow from his youth, worn with use, still served him well. The fine arrows Meachum had gifted him with met their marks, but only one was wounded grievously. They both ducked as arrows flew back and the riders urged their steeds to hasten. Angela heaved back her arm and chucked a potion bottle.

In an explosion of navy blue smoke the leading rider cried out and stabbed at his own eyes. He reared his horse away, screaming, for reasons Eragon could not tell. "Take that you flaming bastards," roared Angela. She reared back and chucked a bottle of the same color again, but this time the horsemen steered away.

"Get rid of them and fast," yelled Murtagh from the front. Solembum was in cat form, flattening himself to the floor of the wagon. Eragon loosened five more arrows, none having much effect. As he knocked a sixth Angela grabbed his wrist. He looked at her, annoyed, and then noticed the motion she made. Her hand moved slowly through the air, palm upwards, sweeping out. Suddenly he remembered. Heat, motion, and time. She looked grim.

"Snowfire can't last much longer. It's the only way," she yelled. He didn't have time to argue and merely jerked his head yes. He knocked the arrow again and then crouched. As he did the air around him shimmered, ripples forming the lower he got.

 _ **'Saphira, lend me your strength,'**_ and he felt her pour herself into him. _**'What is heat but motion,'**_ they recited in unison as the world shifted to black and white. ' _ **What is motion but heat,'**_ they recited again as the world went fuzzy as if filled with constantly moving flakes of black and white. _**'What is time but the motion of moving forward,'**_ they recited the last and a surge of energy, white hot, ran through him as he jumped from the edge of the wagon.

"Eragon," screamed Angela, "No I meant…"

Eragon felt nauseous as he moved faster than normal, corkscrewing through the air, though to the soldiers, all they saw was a minute flicker before they were felled by arrows, all hitting home and felling them. As he hit the ground exhaustion came over him and he dropped to one knee. He gulped in a deep breath, his whole body shaking. _**'Eragon,'**_ Saphira said concerned.

Without warning a memory leapt forth, unwelcome…

_Eragon stomped out from the mouth of the cave, the harsh wind greeting him. He stared outward at nothing. As he stood there he noticed a flicker of movement to his left. He looked down and stepped back in revulsion._

_A rather large spider was fighting what looked like a large bee, but he soon realized it wasn't a bee but a wasp. The spider reared up, fangs out, striking forward. It was about the size of his hand, matte black, with a rather bulbous end and thick legs. It chittered as the wasp flew up and away, its massive stinger coming down and embedding itself somewhat into the abdomen. The spider whipped around and tried to strike again, but the wasp clung on, embedding its stinger and shuddering as it released its toxins…_

Eragon came too and gasped, reaching for the ground, trying to steady himself. Saphira was now fully panicking, rushing towards him, her form visible in the night sky. He whipped his head side to side and then jerked his neck backwards. His mind left him again…

_Eragon watched in morbid fascination as the spider became still, the wasp crawling over it, checking for something. Eragon reached out with his mind, but was shocked to find the spider's mind still intact; it's life force burning bright. He detected two emotions. The wasp felt pure satisfaction. The spider felt pure fear. He recoiled at the primal force of these two small creatures thoughts._

_The wasp began pulling the spider away, little by little, dragging it to a crack in the stone. Eragon reached out again, wanting to understand. Why had a creature like the wasp been able to conquer a much larger and dangerous foe? Why had it attacked the spider? What did it want it for? Food?_

_Eragon crept closer and watched, probing with his mind, lightly, so as to not scare off the wasp. As he listened he could detect something else. An instinct…almost…caring in nature, but not entirely. It was an instinct to survive and pass on, to give…nourishment. That's when it became clear to him. He was detecting three life forces…the third was inside the wasp itself, an egg…_

Saphira landed and rushed over, a snarl ripped from her lips, as she tried to pull Eragon's mind into the folds of her own. She whimpered as a resounding crack of lightning echoed across their mental link. _**'What treachery is this,'**_ she thought. Eragon was trying to rein in his mind. _**'Eragon, think of riddles, think of true names, think of something simple. Regain control. Breathe deep youngling and focus.'**_ Saphira's voice was thick with worry. She made a whine, high pitched, her worry starting to overcome her. Her rider could barely keep his mind together. It seemed to be bursting at the seams…

_Eragon stood at Brom's grave, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, a giant flaming eye to inspect him on the new day. He had been there ever since watching the wasp pull the immobilized spider into its nest. He had then detected the depositing of its larva into the spider as if the arachnid was now a living incubator. It was morbid, disgusting, and fascinating._

_He had then climbed the rocky summit and observed the old man. Now dawn came and he recited to himself what he had said after a few hours of wandering in his mind, "I'm not ready…yet…But I_ _**will be** _ _. Like the wasp I will adapt to take down greater foes." He then sat down, crossed his legs, and spoke out loud, both to the old man and to his companion. Saphira had watched silently the whole night and now listened with fascination._

"Saphira," burst out Angela, leaping to them as Eragon now laid still, eyes closed but moving rapidly behind his lids. "We have to get moving. You must take him with you, but we haven't time to put the saddle on." Saphira reached over with her long neck and deftly picked Eragon up as a mother cat does with newborn kittens. She then held out her massive front right foreleg and dropped him into her outstretched claws and took flight.

 _ **'Meet me at the channel,'**_ her voice was harsh and full of worry. Angela got back into the wagon as Murtagh finished up the healing spell and threw away the spear that had pierced Snowfire. They stole away into the night.

_Saphira lay basking in the hot sun on a patch next to Brom's tomb. A stew was preparing for Eragon and Murtagh. Eragon refused, still, to answer Murtagh's questions. Saphira was thinking of how she wished to converse with someone like herself at this time. Like Solembum, the werecat from Teirm._

' _Like yourself,' Eragon asked her privately. She snorted and rapped him on the head with her snout._

' _Beings unlike you two-legs, beings not concerned with the silly going ons of this world, beings concerned with greater things.' He inquired more, but she merely made a rumbling noise in her chest, a laugh of sorts._

" _So, you plan on telling me what you decided. Vouch for your plans and all?" Murtagh was annoyingly angry, still._

' _I vouch for him, O Fearful One, now stop your fretting,' and with that she curled up and returned to her rest._

* * *

By the time they got off the peninsula, up the shore, and parked at the channel twilight had come. Snowfire was nearly done for and Murtagh, already tired from the strenuous activity and magic use, was gulping down water and bread. Angela had a pinched expression as she and Solembum unloaded supplies into blankets that could be wrapped into bundles. Saphira sat on her hind legs, Eragon propped up. Her eyes were closed as she tried to take him into her mind.

A raging sea of emotion and scraps of memories ripped through Eragon and Saphira rumbled. _**'Come now partner of my mind and heart, please awake.'**_ Saphira was growing despondent, especially now that they had the Empire on their trail. She smelled Angela approaching and turned to her, ready to growl, and warn her away, but she sensed the herbalist's mind was full of worry for her rider, but also worried for their safety.

"Saphira," she said quietly. "Please we must leave. Solembum will fly with you and Eragon as well as the first bundles of supplies. He can watch over him. Please," she begged now. Saphira stared at her. She let her mind brush Angela.

 _ **'I told you, when you first agreed to teach him such dangerous manipulations, to never let him do it when he was weak of body and spirit.'**_ Angela hung her head and then looked back determined.

"I promise Bjartskular that I never intended to break it, but Eragon responded when I had intended to. It was the heat of battle and sometimes things are forgotten. I was prepared only to send super heated air through and," Saphira growled.

 _ **'No excuse.'**_ She nodded to Solembum. He came forward with the saddle. _**'Quickly.'**_ She was in no mood. They went about strapping it on her, Eragon going in next, and Murtagh came forward with the bundles. She grasped them in her mighty claws and took off without warning.

"Well," said Murtagh as they watched her cross the black waters of the channel, the Spine rising on either side of the water, "take it this way. Your death will be quick." Angela was in no mood to quip back or strike him in annoyance.

She stalked away, full of sorrow and regret at not having been quicker. Murtagh stomped up to her and they went about bundling the next group of items working in terse silence. They had parked the wagon behind a bluff, using it for natural covering.

"We could scry the land, we've been here before, and check for soldiers." Angela shook her head no.

"They will have reported the magic. They are bound to have a magician or two now. Too risky. On top of that we'll have plenty of Galbatorix's black agents on our heels soon enough. You used magic and Eragon…"

Murtagh's scowl deepened. "I had to use magic and at least I know how," he grumbled. Angela spun and looked at him.

"I know that! And watch your attitude you sharp little guttersnipe. I have kept your secret and trained that boy with you. He has become more than any of us could hope under the circumstances, but I see now the curse of this endeavor if he is unable to use the talents he has learned."

* * *

Saphira flew, her wings flapping laboriously, as she hauled the cargo the two-legs would need to survive. _**'Eragon too,'**_ she thought with effort. He was lying, slack, against her neck and Solembum clutched to him. His tufted ears were alert and his mane covered head twisted back and forth.

She projected emotions and images to Solembum who projected back. They were clear, for now. The channel was only about half a league wide, but the weight slowed Saphira considerably. On top of that she still had to choose safe harbor. She turned her head to the east and saw the faint light beginning to appear. Determination set in her belly. _**'We cannot still be flying for by then the humans will have good enough light to travel by.'**_

She began flapping her wings harder, more determined than ever to get across the water. As she grew closer to the other side she scanned the horizon. As she did so she felt a presence touch her mind and recognized the hardened steel of Murtagh's mind. He had difficulty maintaining contact, the distance and stress of their morning weighing heavily on him. _**'Saphira…Angela says…an outcrop she saw on the last scouting trip…Northwestern ledge…a plateau…second peak in.'**_ He then cut off contact as a single image appeared in her mind courtesy of Solembum. She turned, flying higher as a favorable sea wind lifted her. She started slightly as Eragon shifted in the saddle, but then fell back to being still. She pushed onwards.

"What happened to him," asked Murtagh in a hoarse whisper. Angela continued to feel the leaves of the brush plant beside her. She wasn't sure how to explain it. "I want to know."

She looked up slowly. "I can explain it as this," she said haltingly. "There are certain rules the world lives by and magic manipulates these rules. It takes energy to use it to perform feats unknown to mortals." Murtagh nodded, he knew all of this.

"That said there are…indirect? Indirect ways of manipulating forces around us. The ultimate action of this is manipulating the speed of things. Increasing the constant friction between the most minute details that create if you move things, or yourself, fast enough, time becomes relative" Murtagh stared at her, unsure. She held up a pebble, slowly it began to shake, harder and harder, until it exploded in her hand. He fell backwards in surprise.

"Thereby using forces to break the rules and restructure them to a way that benefits yourself and harms your enemies. What he did is something even I have trouble doing."

"You didn't answer my question, and how did you do that to the pebble?"

"It's all I have to give." With that she fell silent. Three large bundles sat behind them, the two horses grazing in their saddles, and the wagon, empty, waiting to be lifted. Saphira was nowhere to be seen.

"Angela," she turned and raised an eyebrow at Murtagh. "Thank you…for not telling him or Saphira…about my parentage." She smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"No point in it is there. He doesn't need to know as of now. However at some point he'll have to know. You are wielding your father's blade after all. Also despite everything I can't seem to get you to learn to behave. May perhaps I'll use it as punishment" He glared at the ground, conflicted.

A few moments later Angela grabbed his arm. "She returns." She landed hard, but didn't seem worse for wear.

 _ **'The large meals and rest have been made useful. It is my worry that annoys me. These foolhardy concerns way too heavily on my mind,'**_ and Saphira stamped. She trotted up to them and watched as Angela reached for a large bundle with Murtagh. Saphira stopped them with a growl and shake of her head.

 _ **'Put the horses into sleep Murtagh, then I shall fly them, Angela, and a bundle.'**_ They gaped at her.

 _ **'Saphira it is too much weight for one so young as,'**_ Murtagh was cut short by a deeper rumble and talons tapping on earth.

 _ **'Long ago yes, but not now. I am determined to see this through. If it'll assuage your concerns, you'll give me the lightest bundle and I'll take one horse. Now be quick!'**_ They brought Tornac first because Snowfire still needed more healing and if they couldn't escape in time they'd need the stronger of the two. As Saphira hauled off Angela reached into the folds of her robes and tossed down two vials.

"Use if you need a distraction," she yelled and they were off. Murtagh tore back and gathered Snowfire next to the wagon and the last two bundles. Next round she'd take the horse and a bundle before coming back for him and the last of their things before taking the wagon. As he waited with baited breath he heard a sound that sent his heart racing. The pealing of a horn rang off in the distance. I was the same kind of horn that had been rung to alert the guards of him and Solembum.

* * *

Saphira laboriously swept across the bay. It had taken her only minutes to fly back, but with the extra weight she had to take her time. Angela shifted and looked down as they finally passed over pines and climbed a tad higher before alighting on an outcropping of ice and snow covered stone. She jumped off of Saphira, checking to make sure Tornac was safely asleep, before taking the bundles and ushering the dragon to fly. She did, rising on an updraft.

She sped back, the sky now giving way too much light for comfort and the rays of the sun peeking over the horizon. She urged herself faster, thinking of the pain Eragon was in, and how she hated to be away from him. _**'Always trouble he finds, whether in his own mind or in the world.'**_

As she arrived at the beach she peered down from the skies and saw a concerning sight. Dozens and dozens of two-legs on horses milled about shouting orders as bloodhounds sniffed the ground and men, with bows and spears, fanned about. They were a quarter of a league from Murtagh and closing in. The bluff was the only thing protecting him. She spun, corkscrewing to the side, making sure to hide in cloud cover as she dipped lower.

Opening her maw and using her tongue to direct it, Saphira breathed a small flame as she dipped just above the water. Immediately a huge cloud of steam gathered. She alighted on shore and saw Murtagh running about, the bundles open and the wagon straps in a pile of goods on one blanket.

' _ **What is this,'**_ she demanded. He turned to her.

"We can't afford multiple trips, those soldiers are too close." He spoke out loud in fear of using his mind in case of magicians. "We need to take all of it, now. But we will have to leave the wagon." He motioned to how he was removing the wagon's covering, preparing to make it into a wrap. Saphira hated the idea, but nodded. "You'll need to alight the wagon once we take off."

Saphira began flapping and gingerly picked up Snowfire and the bundles. Murtagh shifted, an arrow knocked in his bow as he scanned the horizon. They lifted off. He threw the two vials of Angela's and watched as an acid green cloud appeared, billowing up the bluff. He was lurched backwards when Saphira breathed a huge torrent of fire at the water beneath them.

As steam billowed upwards, Saphira let out a great orb of flame, Murtagh yelled in shock at the force of it, and much to his surprise she heaved in huge strokes and began drifting towards the water, only about 10 feet above it. She whipped her head back, her tongue curling around inside her mouth and launched a fireball, a meter in diameter, and the ocean exploded in more mist.

She whipped back and launched more as they flew, slowly, across the sea tongue. Steam billowed around them. Shocked cries soon reached their airs and howls of agony. It seemed Angela's acid cloud and the surprising amount of steam had taken them by surprise. They flew on, Saphira's muscles straining. At several points Snowfire's hooves dipped into the water.

 _ **'Murtagh…help my limbs.'**_ He reached out and transferred his energy into her shaking limbs. He detected the relief as Saphira's shuddering wing muscles released the tension with the help of his effort. _**'Thank…you…'**_

It took Saphira almost a whole hour to cross the channel and by the time they alighted on the rocky shore the sun had begun to climb in the sky. Luckily Murtagh could see the cloud cover moving in. Saphira lowered Snowfire and the bundles before landing hard. Her body was shaking. Murtagh patted her muscular neck. "We made it," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter - The Empire now knows there are four people in flight from Tordsed, but they thankfully don't know of Saphira except for suspicious steam rising from the ocean. Four men are dead and not by normal means. Eragon has committed an act that has rendered him unconscious and yet Saphira is unaffected, but unable to contact her rider. What does fate have in store for them? 


	5. The Waystation and The Watcher

Angela dabbed at Eragon's forehead, the rag soaked in ice water and herb oil. He was still in a deep sleep. Saphira lay close to him, his head propped up on blankets against her side. Murtagh was moving around them, sorting goods and supplies. Solembum was off scouting the area.

"Why save all of these things and risk exposure," Angela had demanded of them both. Saphira looked at her with a critical eye and offered a response that made it sound as if it was completely sensible.

_**'I noticed the box Eragon had received from the shopkeeper was not in the first pile. It has a tea he said is medicinal. I know not it's properties, but will not abandon anything that has a potential chance of helping him.'**_ She then flashed her teeth, curled around Eragon, and continued her attempts at helping calm his raging dreams. They had been like this for the past few hours.

The sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds of gray and white. "Snowfall is imminent," Solembum said before shifting and padding off.

As Murtagh checked on their midday meal he went over their list out loud.

"The useless items are mainly the hides, fur, ivory, bone, some odds and ends. I'm not sure how we plan on carting all of this. The wagon is gone." Angela nodded grimly.

"Normally I'd be rather peeved about that, for it took me months to build properly and I don't like carting everything everywhere since it's a bastard on the back, but it's all for the best I suppose." She accepted the food and chowed away as she inspected her patient. "I think we can find use for the trade supplies. I know we had meant to use it to gain coin for our travels, but we may need it now for ourselves."

"How so," Murtagh asked. Angela motioned around them. He looked and it slowly dawned on him. "Ah, I see." They were now on an outcropping, a trail of mountain pine and brush leading higher into the mountains their only way out. "No caves to hide in, no wagon to transport, and a very sick Rider."

"Oh good, you're not devoid of intelligence after all. If he doesn't get better soon we'll have to make a liter and carry him." She pointed to the horn and fur bundles.

"What about the catamaran?" Murtaugh pointed at the oil skin wrapped boxes. She shook her head.

"I'd rather not. We may need it as we go further down towards Ceunon. We can't risk dismantling it, but I will agree if we must." Angela continued to look about.

_**'There must be something up here…hemlock will just kill him, so that's no fun…stonescrub, useless…mountain flowers, how are they not dead yet…mor…wait a second.'**_ She got up and walked towards the mountain flowers. Murtagh called after her as she left the outcropping and passed through the sparse grass and snow. She knelt at the side of the stone wall and inspected the mountain flowers. The stalks were only slightly yellow with death, and would soon die, but still their russet colored flowers suffused the air with scent. She looked down and felt the earth. The soil was pregnant with water, but still alive. The roots were slightly rotted, but there was something else.

"Murtagh," she called out, motioning him forward. He came. "I believe I've found something rather fascinating. Feel the soil." He looked at her with a flat expression, but did as he was told. "Not with your glove on," she admonished. He huffed and took it off, the chill air striking his hand. As he touched the soil he waited for something to happen.

After a moment he turned to her, "well this is rather anti-climactic."

"You are incredibly insufferable. Look, blockhead, with your mind. If you can. Really now." She rolled her eyes and flapped her hands impatiently. He rolled his own eyes in response and felt with his mind down into the earth. He pulled back in shock and looked at the herbalist who wore a smug expression.

"We best get a move on." He ran back to their camp, Angela on his heels.

Saphira counted in her head, promising she would leap up at the end and demand an explanation for their bustling about. Before she could she heard them stop and they joined minds to contact her. _**'What?'**_

They paused, her tone was harsh, meaning no dilly-dallying, and Angela, deciding to be quick, expressed her thoughts and feelings to her. Saphira's left eye opened, looking at them both with her great sapphire orb, and asked, _**'where is an opening?'**_

"Don't know, but I'm going to inspect and find out. I'll need Solembum's help. Next to you he's the smallest," Murtagh said side eyeing Angela.

"I'm fun sized," quipped Angela as she called for Solembum. She gathered things up. Solembum appeared over a ridge and bound down the rock face with expert dexterity. Murtagh relayed the discovery and the werecat wasted no time in flitting to the mountain flowers with Murtagh.

_**'Even if you find the entrance there is no assurance this cavern will be big enough.'**_ Angela nodded distractedly.

_**'Yes, but if we can find a place to stick for a while we will have shelter from the snow and a place to understand whatever ails him.'**_ A sharp yowl pierced the stillness of the mountain air.

"Solembum," yelled Angela whipping around. Neither he nor Murtagh were anywhere to be found. She rushed forward to the mountain face, but a sharp splitting sound met their ears. Saphira yelped in pain and covered her head with her massive paws. Angela got low to the ground, ready to reach for magic, as difficult as it was for her, and protect them. Then much to their shock they watched the mountain face caved outward, the stones tumbling away. As the stones fell, they formed a perfect low stone wall, fitting together like puzzle pieces, on either side of the opening. Soon they were staring at the trapezoidal opening to the cave, a low stone wall on either side with what seemed like two pillars at either end.

Angela whipped out a sword that Saphira had never seen before. It was a clear blade that reflected the light. Angela also withdrew a bloody orange colored dagger, the color of a sunset on a hot summer's day, and narrowed her eyes. Suddenly, so suddenly Saphira leapt up, ready to bathe her enemies in flame, Murtagh appeared mouth agape.

"You'll want to see this," he yelled out.

* * *

Angela was blank faced as she looked down at the caved in earth, light coming through the decent sized hole. The mountain flowers had sat on water logged earth that, when Solembum dug at it like a dog, had given way and he and Murtagh had suddenly sunk in. They explained that as they came to they were shocked to find themselves in a small cavern, a steep ledge in front of them, but a small well-worn set of stairs leading up to a grate on their right.

The grate was made of some sort of material that sounded like ceramic when struck. Murtagh and Solembum had forced it open, entering into the building they now found themselves. Solembum had then yowled, to see if the others could hear them, but the yowl had caused runes unlike anything they knew of to come to light and create the opening they had passed through. Murtagh had lifted Eragon through the entrance, the rider unnaturally still with his eyes darting behind his lids.

"This place…is old," said Solembum as he moved more of their things inside. The ceiling was easily thirty to forty feet high, domed, and smooth. It was colored dark green, the rafters and molding slate gray. The room below was circular, with a crescent moon shaped balcony and a staircase leading up the right side. A door, rotted with age, sat there unopened. Below the balcony sat a dais with a stone counter and two other unopened doors. The rest of the room was dominated by stone tables and other assorted furniture. All of it was covered in dust and cobwebs.

Angela pulled back from the opening and shut the ceramic door. She turned and sheathed her translucent blade. Murtagh looked at her. "Yes," she asked her head jutting forward.

"What is," he was cut off by her holding out a hand.

"Not today," and set about getting a camp up and running. Murtagh didn't want to drop it, but a wind tore through the opening. He cursed. Snow was beginning to fall. He ran about and brought Snowfire and Tornac in. He set Snowfire down on an unrolled bundle of furs. He laid his hands on the horse's flank and set about finishing the job of healing. He hoped he hadn't waited too long to finish.

Saphira was able to curl up in front of the dais, knocking furniture out of the way with no care. She was impatient and her scales itched at the unfamiliar place. Most of all Eragon's state worried her. Angela came up to check on Eragon. Her movements were quick and jerky.

_**'What bothers you,'**_ Angela looked up and shook her head no. Saphira's eyes narrowed. She disliked being denied, but she knew Angela would not speak unless she had to. _**'For now, herbalist, I will keep my peace. But soon you will answer,'**_ she said to herself. Murtagh finished up, steadying himself, and rose. His limbs ached with fatigue but he set about assisting Angela. Soon a crackling fire was set in a wide pit in the center of the room. Sleeping mats of stuffed hide were rolled out with pillows of down and thick fur covers to keep them warm.

Solembum had tried to close the entrance by yowling, but it remained open. Finally Murtagh had drawn on the strength of Saphira and constructed a ward to keep out the chill, but the snow would still accumulate at the door. Angela went about brewing a quick potion. "Emberflow," she muttered, "keeps ice from forming." She poured it along the ward line.

They now ate, stewing in silence. As they finished and washed their bowls in snow Saphira walked up behind them. They turned and looked up at the mighty dragon. _**'Where is the box Murtagh?'**_ He gave her a questioning look. Smoke puffed from her nostrils as she snorted. _**'The box, human, of the tea.'**_

"Oh," he started and then went and dug it out.

"What tea is this? Why haven't I looked at it yet? I am an herbalist after all." asked Angela curiously. Saphira followed them.

_**'Eragon received it from Meachum. It is called Nightfoil.'**_ Angela cried out in triumph at that and seized the box, running to the brass kettle set over the flame.

_**'What are you doing,'**_ growled out Saphira. Angela smiled wildly.

"Really Saphira you and the youngling should've told me right away that you possessed Nightfoil. I can't believe you didn't think to tell me sooner," she harrumphed as she sprinkled the leaves into a ceramic owl mug. Saphira and Murtagh watched as the leaves instantly dissolved, giving way to purple and turning the water a milky lavender color. Even Solembum, lounging on a table, perked up and watched with interest. As Angela walked to Eragon, Saphira's massive tail came down, causing the earth to shudder.

Angela looked up in shock. _**'First you let him perform an act that incapacitates him, then you reveal a weapon unlike any we have seen, and you seem uncertain about this place as if you know of it! Speak now!'**_ Angela's face was stone and even Murtagh seemed to fear.

Before anything could be said Solembum jumped down and looked up at the angered dragon. _**'Saphira,'**_ his voice was calm, _**'I ask that you let me speak.'**_ Her eyes flicked down at the werecat, but she projected a reluctant allowance.

_**'For three years Angela and I have lived with you, willingly, and taught Eragon and you as much as we can, under the circumstances. We have flown with you and taught you the patterns of the wind, how to live off the land, even alter the flow of the world when your need is great. We have laughed and cried with you. We have loved and mourned with you. After all this do you really think we would bring harm to Eragon or yourself?'** _

The werecat stared at her unblinking. Her annoyance and mistrust rolled off her in waves, but so did a growing begrudging acknowledgement that Solembum wasn't wrong though her trust in them was less than what it usually was.

_**'Angela still has secrets. Some even I do not know. However if she promises to answer three questions, will you let her give him the tea? I can promise it will help. Nightfoil is known to werecats. It is an old herb.'**_ Saphira's maw opened slightly, flames flickering within. Murtagh stepped back, his hand reaching for Zar'roc on his back and his left hand reaching for the sword at his side. He wasn't as skilled as Eragon in dual wielding, but he was good enough.

_**'I do not bargain with Eragon's life,'**_ Saphira hissed out. _**'However I want answers so you will answer three Angela.'**_ The herbalist blanched at this. Solembum's ears flicked.

_**'As long as I am allowed to vouch when it is a question she cannot or will not answer.'**_ Saphira now roared low at this, her fangs showing, but Solembum was undeterred. He stared straight at her.

After a pregnant pause Saphira slowly moved her tail away and stood beside Eragon. Solembum turned and cocked his head to Angela. She wore a chastened look, but she seemed determined. She propped Eragon's head up, and poured the still warm tea down his throat.

Saphira snapped, _**'what now?'**_ Angela sat on the edge of a table, Murtagh joining her, but standing apart, and she sighed.

"Now we wait."

* * *

_It was cold. It was dark. Eragon was alone. He sat, hunched, head on his knees, his arms crossed, and curled in on himself. Doubt was what he felt. He felt doubt and fear and most of all he felt was disappointment. He was disappointed in himself. "How did it come to this," he whispered._

_As the memories kept striking out at him his mind caved in on itself, drawing him into a shell locked away from his body. Here now in the blackness of the deepest reaches of his mind he sat alone. 'I wish I was home, I wish I was in Carvahall. I wish I had killed the deer and taken it home so I had never found that damn egg.'_

_As quick as an autumn wind the blackness shifted. Eragon looked up as he suddenly smelled the tidings of the harvest season. He felt grass, dry, beneath him and looked up. He stood on a hill overlooking his old home in Carvahall. The whitewashed walls and wood roof of their home greeted him. Barley and wheat danced lightly in the breeze, as the trees shined scarlet, gold, and russet. He felt a smile spread on his face. Squash, pumpkins, and guords sat in the next field over._

_He then noticed something different. The barn was newly painted, with two additions. There was a shed next to the house, firewood peeking out from underneath a cover. He then noticed a man, tall and strong, his arms corded with muscle, directing a horse pulling a plow. Eragon peered closer and was shocked to behold Roran, his cousin, but older._

_'Is this a vision of the present,' he asked himself in bewilderment. He found himself floating down to get closer. He suddenly stopped, worried he'd be seen, but then he noticed his arm passing through the trunk of an oak. He jerked back, in fright, yelling out. He stood still suddenly, afraid that Roran had heard him._

_'Wait a second…I'm incorporeal!' He put his arm through the tree, moving it back and forth, starting to laugh. Suddenly he remembered Saphira's voice when he did such childish things._

_'Are you a Rider or a village idiot? Pick one and stick to it.' He stopped and turned back and walked forth. As he alighted on the field, he realized he could feel the stalks. It only seemed things that could completely block his way were he able to slip through. He smiled softly at being able to feel the fields of his home, however altered it may be._

_As he approached Roran he stiffened slightly. Seeing him up close was disconcerting for him for he had not laid eyes on his cousin in three years. He now had a beard, thick, but trimmed neatly. He was well built and well fed. His skin was tanned from working in the sun, unlike Eragon's pale visage from living so far north. His clothes, though dirty, were of a fine make._

_"Husband," chimed out a clear voice. Eragon spun around and gasped. Katrina, hair a brilliant shade of copper, seemed to glide forth. A dress of navy blue, lined with gold needle work, framed her well-shaped body. Her hair was pinned in an elegant twist, held together with a pearl and gold comb set with a single sapphire in the shape of a…dragon! Eragon watched as she smiled sweetly at Roran, smiling as she kissed him._

_"Roran, you must finish. It will be time for the Harvest Festival soon. We can't be late now can we?" He laughed._

_"No," his voice was deep, "we cannot. Have you chosen what I will be wearing?" Katrina laughed._

_"Your armor is appropriate. It's freshly reforged from the damage it sustained in the Siege of Petrovya. The gold stitch of the flame has been redesigned to appear as if Saphira herself is roaring it." She spoke with happiness, her voice light and airy. Roran smiled at that. His face slowly dropped though._

_"What is wrong, love," Katrina asked. He sighed and looked to the horizon. She softened as she watched him._

_"You miss him," and he nodded._

_"He should be here. Instead the King sends him to finish the taking of Dauth. I wish those blasted Surdan's weren't so obstinate. Galbatorix can't be beat. It's time to accept it and make the best of it, like we have here in Carvahall."_

_Eragon blanched at this. Galbatorix? Ordering him? Conquering Surda? What was this!? Katrina and Roran spoke a bit more, but Eragon heard none as the world lost color, a frigid wind whipped through him, and the skies darkened with angry black clouds._

' _Saphira and I would never'…as he thought this, a sudden earth shattering roar filled the world. In a blur of black and white it spun around and Eragon fell through the earth with a terrorized scream. He came to, hunched inward, but a large tremor ran through him._

_'Eragon,' roared a familiar voice. He looked up so fast he practically got whiplash. Saphira looked at him straight in the face with an expression of utter worry and sorrow._

_He lunged forward, pressing his head against her snout. She closed her eyes and nuzzled him. 'Little One…'_

_'I was so scared Saphira.' He relayed to her the visions he's seen in his dark dreams. She listened and waited, comforted, while expressing her own concern. 'What goes on now?'_

_Saphira didn't state anything for a while before chiming, 'it matters not. What matters is here and now. Listen to me Eragon for I have much to say.' He took a deep breath before nodding._

_'I have always been sure of our path. Yet it seems as if your mind is conflicted, and that those fears are manifesting. It is as if they envelope you, like a thick fog. I do not know why I could not reach you here, but I could hear you faintly speak my name and I dug towards it each time.' Eragon stayed silent, listening closely._

_'I believe that you are living, and I am living through you, the consequences of your fears. When we disappeared into the north, by leaving the path laid out by Brom, we remained hidden, allowing the world to pass us by. Much suffering is guaranteed to have happened in the meantime, but we have remained away from it. We allowed our wishes to grow to supplant what we had been told were our duties as Rider and Dragon. Now your fears are what are the consequences of our actions, something we haven't asked for three years? What will it mean that we must return to the road ahead? Especially when we know It is a road that will lead to Galbatorix and the final confrontation. You fear that we still aren't ready for it...and we aren't...but much better suited,' she added with a light laughing voice._

_Eragon felt his cheeks warm. Saphira was always so clear in her assessments. He was embarrassed at his own ineptitude. 'Not ineptitude, Eragon, but merely being human. You're not a dragon,' she said, amused, though he felt her truth in some regard to dragons being superior to all. 'You are imagining what the truth may have been from us detouring from Brom's path, and now, the worst of it, you fear our detour ends with us serving the King. You are also imagining, on some level, a desirable future. Carvahall and your family prospering, us holding positions of clear importance, as we should always, and most of all we are alive.' Eragon nodded. She was right and he did imagine sometimes what could have been._

_'Could have, Would have, Should have been? None of it matters, for only the fates know what they have in store for us."' In Saphira's words; his whole being seemed to shake with various emotions. Before he could say anything he felt Saphira's mind tug at him. 'Awake Eragon!_ _**Awake** _ _!'_

* * *

Eragon was ravenous. Angela and Murtagh watched in gross amusement as he wolfed down enough food to make them wonder that he may cut into their supplies. "Need to replace the energy I lost," he whispered in a hoarse voice. After multiple helpings, he leaned back against Saphira, belly full, and content to revel in a new found closeness he had with her. She hummed.

Solembum jumped down off the table and interrupted their reverie. He stood in front of the, tail twitching back and forth. Eragon opened one eye and looked at him. "Yes, Solembum," he asked tiredly.

_**'Saphira, your questions.'**_ Eragon looked up at her in question. She shared her memories with him of what had occurred while asleep. Eragon pulled himself up, more alert than ever.

_**'What do you think we should ask,'**_ he directed at Saphira. She tensed up and her tail twitched as she pondered.

_**'First we must know our surroundings lest we come across prey that ends up being a predator.'**_ Eragon thought briefly and agreed. They had been used to being hunted and then become used to being hunters. Now they needed to reacquaint themselves with the former.

"Angela," asked Eragon, since Saphira made it clear that the herbalist seemed to know more, "what is this place?" The herbalist looked up from the table. Her face was unreadable.

"It's a waystation, of course." Eragon wanted to pipe up and tell her that it wasn't an answer. "Hold, Eragon, for I am not being witty or cagey." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "This is a waystation, an inn like Claw Hearth, but from before even elves arrived in Alagaesia. The door over there leads to an area of the Depth Reaches that was once well traveled…and well populated."

"You are indeed old," said Murtagh, looking at her with a feeling Eragon couldn't place. Before anyone else could say anything Saphira projected to the room a question to Solembum.

_**'Why did your yowl open the doorway to this place,'**_ and at that the werecat affected a shrug.

_**'I know not. It was as a surprise to me as it was to you.'**_ He then turned to look at Angela.

"The weres...cats were friends of the beings that built this place. In fact they could even be called members of their civilization, but then again the same could be said of werecats and any civilized society." Eragon and Murtagh both narrowed their eyes, noticing her pause, but stayed silent. Angela was being forthcoming without wisecracks or jokes or being obstinate.

_**'I'm not sure what to ask next especially if she's so forthcoming.'**_ Saphira agreed. She had an idea and conferred with Eragon who agreed the wording was the best to obtain a possible answer.

_**'If you are not a member of any current society, were you a member of theirs?'**_ Angela brayed with laughter at that.

"No, no, no," she giggled, tears at her eyes, "no I am fortunate to not have been one of them. For they are long gone, far more gone than any beings have been. They were old, older than the beings we call the Grey Folk."

Eragon and Saphira were shocked at that. _**'Imagine that, beings older than the very smiths that cast the rules of magic itself.'**_ Eragon nodded with a look on his face appropriate as if clubbed.

"Angela." Murtagh spoke with a very firm voice. "What or who were these people." She looked at him, expression sober again, and sighed.

"Oh Murtagh. I wish I could elaborate on them, but it is impossible to even begin to explain the many answers to that question." As Murtagh stood, ready to argue, she held up a hand. "Peace, for I am not done and will tell you this." She reached into her robes and removed a scroll. As she unrolled it Eragon realized it was vellum. The ends were fastened to what looked like black lacquered wood. "This scrolls details the Depth Reaches, in a language even I have trouble remembering how to read, for it was some time ago. What I can say is this. They were beings of unrivaled power. Long ago a great cataclysm caused their civilization to be wiped out. Beyond that any knowledge I have is so piecemeal or secret that it cannot be explained. There are few others who know more than I and what I know is little enough."

She tossed the scroll to Murtagh who looked at it and then tossed it to Eragon. It was a stylized pictorial of a long winding road underneath mountains. Small squares in red wax that seemed as if freshly dried clearly notated locations.

_**'Cul'gatan.'**_ Eragon looked up, expecting to see that Angela had spoken. Instead it was Solembum, his eyes glazed over.

"What," asked Eragon out loud, his head turning slightly, eyes narrowed.

_**'The wax denotes Cul'gatan.'**_ The werecat leaned forward, his mouth opened slightly, before he suddenly shook out his main and looked up and around. _**'What,'**_ he said with annoyance as he saw everyone, even Angela, look at him in surprise.

"What is a Cul'gatan Solembum," she asked. He looked at her, blinked, and licked a paw. She looked irritated and snorted. "He says he has no idea. We can chalk it up to the werecats being close with the builders of this place, but even I don't know what a Cul'gatan is." Eragon groaned and his head thumped against Saphira's side.

_**'Answers breed only more questions.'**_ Saphira was emanating calm, but Eragon could feel her annoyance too.

"That was one question, and I've revealed more than a few questions worth, so ask your second one." Saphira shifted her gaze and projected out.

_**'Why did you come with us?'**_ Angela smiled sadly and looked at them with her piercing eyes, as if she saw right through them.

"It is true I followed Solembum, and he wished to follow you, because we have been companions for a while now. However it was also part of my genuine curiosity at what might occur around you. When Brom died…" She trailed off and looked away, lines of weariness appearing on her face. She turned back to them after some time. "The world shifts around you, Eragon, and you too, Saphira, in ways you cannot understand until you are my…very, very advanced age. These shifts matter and come once in a few lifetimes. I love interesting events, but more than that I feel your shift is more than just any old change in the course of history. It's something more. You are both something more." She smiled a smile full of kindness.

Eragon and Saphira were both heartened at her admission, but Eragon looked at Saphira and she at him, as he said, ' _ **I'm touched she has this kind of faith in us, but I'm worried about what she means.'**_ Saphira hummed.

_**'I agree, but for once I do not wish to pry. I worry if we do she won't answer. If she does, though, I fear we will be even more confused and worried than we are now.'** _

The camp was dead silent as they all digested this news. After some time Solembum stirred and shifted to his human form. After dressing he turned to them, "ask your last question. We have much to still do and night is closing rapidly upon us." Eragon and Saphira stirred uneasily.

_**'Angela is still mysterious and I still don't entirely trust her as much as I have come to. That said we'd be remiss to treat her badly for holding secrets. We hold our own.'**_ Eragon nodded distractedly.

_**'Yes, but I still want to know more. What could we ask tha…wait didn't you say she had an odd blade.'**_ Saphira nodded.

"Angela, these questions, there are three, involve your blade so I ask they be treated as one. What is that blade and was it made by the beings who built this place and the beings who made the scroll?" Angela laughed again, merrily, and drew out the blade.

"This blade is the perfect rendition of an incline plane." The light of the fire reflected off the blade, sending a rainbow of colors dizzying around the waystation. "It is named Albitr, which I am sure you know in the ancient language, but I like to call it Tinkledeath!" She smiled toothily.

"Tinkledeath," blurted out Murtagh. Angela laughed again.

"Yes, Tinkledeath, because," and with that she tapped the flat of the blade with her knuckle and a chiming sound rang out. Saphira laughed and Solembum smiled wryly. Angela stopped laughing and sheathed it with a smile.

"Yes, Tinkledeath, and as for its make…" She shrugged, "I received it from a man of no little power and he never explained its origin. Considering it's named in the ancient language it must be younger than this place, but who knows." She sighed, placing the sheathed sword on the table and drew out a bone pipe, stuffed it with cardus weed from a tinderbox, and lit it with a mumbled word. "Well now you know more about me than before. Congratulations." She tipped the pipe at them and puffed on it.

Murtagh stripped down to his undergarments and donned thick sleeping pants. He made sure both Zar'roc and his hand and a half sword with him as he slipped into his bag. Solembum got into the one next to Angela's as she said, "we must rest. I'll take first watch. Eragon, try and wake up after you fall asleep this time." He smiled and melded his mind with Saphira.

_**'Well,'**_ he asked.

_**'Rest now, for we are weary and have learned much, but tomorrow we must make decisions. Also please do wake up after you fall asleep little one. I'd be rather upset if you didn't.'**_ He smiled at that, closing his eyes knowing that Saphira watched over him.

* * *

The morning came and brought the light of snow clouds, pregnant and gray. The companions were well rested and ate breakfast with some banter and companionable silence. Saphira had cleared the snow with a clean swipe and stood like an azure sentinel ready to go to battle against any foe.

Eragon washed himself with a rag and snow water mixed with pine oil. _**'You need to get used to being dirty,'**_ observed Saphira.

_**'Versus you who cannot stand to look anything other than pristine.'**_ She growled at him. She disliked being forced to acknowledge her own vanity. He smirked. He observed his reflection in the water. His body had become hard with muscle, but he was unnaturally pale having received very little light so far north to make a difference. His eyes had changed from their normal brown, over time, to a stormy gold. Angela had explained, though she didn't possess too much information, that the effects of being a Rider weren't fully understood.

"Unfortunately without a proper teacher you will never understand all that happens to you," she had told him with a degree of sorrow. He fingered the tapered ears, finding them somewhat odd even till this day.

He had strong cheekbones and a nose that Marvum had called, "just perfect for poking at to see you scrunch it up." He had turned three shades of red at that as Angela chuckled at his embarrassment. His thick brown hair had taken on an almost steely glow due to lack of light. In the dark it looked to be almost the color of pitch.

"Enough gazing at yourself. Be glad you don't have zits like a pockmarked adolescent...or whiskers like a ferret. Ferocious things, ferrets. Oh get over here. Time for a family meeting." Angela had regained her usual attitude. Eragon pulled on his garments. He strapped the pauldrons and vambraces on, put on his greaved gauntlets, and pulled on his coat. He was ready for the long journey ahead.

"Perfect, you're ready to climb the walls of all the houses in Teirm like a sneak thief. Absolutely spiffing." Angela, in contrast to the browns of Murtagh and blacks of Eragon, wore a red waist coat of canvas covered in thick dyed wool. Billowing black pants and high heeled buckled boots covered her legs. What was ridiculous was the silver chain bandolier across her chest fitted with various flasks and pouches. A dizzying array of colors danced across her chest. Tinkledeath and her poniard were belted at her right side. Her hair was pinned under a white shawl.

"You look the part of fortune teller…or roadside attraction." Angela smiled.

"That's the kindest thing you've said to me, you steel swinging princess." Murtagh scowled. Eragon chuckled and joined them, his bow and quiver slung across his back. She looked at them both, Solembum coming to curl up in her lap. Saphira lay at the door, observing through Eragon.

"We have a problem," started Murtagh, "for we have no wagon anymore and an overabundance of supplies. We can easily have Saphira bring us down the mountain and continue on the shoreline by foot or catamaran. We also have the horses." He waved outside where Tornac and Snowfire were chewing on the sparse grass. "Angela, you know the next part better than I."

She nodded. "That I do. The Depth Reaches, the grand underground network of caverns and roads, aren't as wild as I showed you two. This waystation is an example. On top of that Solembum's unexpected revelation of this Cul'gatan," at that Solembum piped up.

_**'Cul'gatan is plural. Cul'gata is singular.'**_ He then continued to purr. They all looked at him. Suddenly Murtagh reached out, Solembum bounding away and Murtagh missing his tail by inches.

"Stupid cat, tell us more if you know so much." Solembum hissed with displeasure.

_**'I only know so much Murtagh. I am not sure why I know what I know. I am a feline. My instincts speak for themselves. I knew it was right to follow Eragon and I know what those places are called. I cannot explain why for I literally do not know.'**_ Before Murtagh could respond a whistling sound filled the air followed by a sharp crack. Murtagh covered the top of his head, his brow furrowed and lips pressed outward like a duck.

"Ow! That hurt." Angela stared at him blankly.

"Alone. Get it? Leave the feline folk alone. Tis the time to shut up and stop whining. Now, as I was saying," she glared at Murtagh, "the Depth Reaches were populated and defined in some areas. I know for a fact that this waystation should lead us out to a hidden entrance just east of Ceunon, towards the western edge of the great forest of Du Weldenvarden."

"Why didn't you call for us to use this then. That way we avoid all danger," Eragon said with his hands outstretched.

"Once again you shoot the arrow before sighting the target. I had thought of it, but didn't know a werecat's meow would open the gate. Also, Eragon, really now? You really think the Depth Reaches, especially here, is safe?" She inspected him with a look as if an owl was inspecting something annoying. He sat back subdued.

_**'Besides,'**_ chimed in Saphira, _**'we attract danger like no other.'**_ Angela nodded excitedly as if suddenly taken over by a woodpecker.

"Yes and it's absolutely the spice of life!" They all rolled their eyes.

"Angela is, and I really do hate to admit it," she smiled at Murtagh, "right. We all attract danger like flies to carrion coated in honey." Saphira licked her chops. "So for me I believe the safest path is to avoid the Empire. I've been hiding from them and have no wish yet to confront them. I say we take our chances by turning our supplies into something useful and taking our chances beneath the earth. It is large enough for us to travel underneath there right?" Angela nodded.

"The dwarves have nothing on these people. Tunnels? Bah! These areas of the Depth Reaches are truly something." Murtagh nodded as if that confirmed something.

"Then we can take the horses and everything else. We'll need a liter, potentially wheels with it. We can modify the saddles of the horses to carry more and, if you consent to it," he turned to Saphira, "modify yours as well." She dipped her head. Soon they were in deep discussion about what else needed to be done.

* * *

Eragon stared out in the distance. He sat on the junction between Saphira's shoulders and neck. He felt a headache coming on. _**'You need to meditate, go slow, and acknowledge your fear.'**_ He sighed. She was right, as always.

_**'I will before we leave, Solembum is still scouting the local area. Once he's back we can eat and I'll meditate.'**_ Before she could respond they heard the scraping of cat claws on rock and Solembum bound down to them. He licked his claws briefly before sidling up to Saphira and rubbing against her purring.

_**'What did you see,'**_ she asked amusedly. He looked up at her.

_**'All business and no play…but alas I saw nothing of importance. If I had time I'd hunt mountain rats, but we don't. We are alone here.'**_ Saphira nodded, pleased at this. Before any of them could say anything else a loud thump met them. They turned and went back to the waystation. They observed as Murtagh kicked at the left hand door on the dais. Angela sat there and turned as she heard them.

"Been trying to tell him I'd be glad to help, but he can't hear me over his tiny brain." He turned to her snarling.

"I'm perfectly intelligent and able, herbalist." She heaved a heavy sigh.

"I don't mean the one in your thick skull." He blanched, turning red, before turning away and hitting the door harder. Angela chuckled. "Well, Saphira dear, just knock it down before he hurts himself." Saphira stood, shook herself out, and shoved Murtagh out of the way before knocking her front paw into the door. The wood splintered into millions of pieces.

_**'Have fun,'**_ she said, completely disinterested, as she lay down in front. Murtagh went in, Solembum flitting behind him. Eragon turned to Angela. She handed him his falchions.

"Not coming," he asked as he strapped them to his belt, gripping the horker tusk handles. She smiled serenely and shook her head no. He ventured in. The room held stone basins of goods long perished, dried herbs turned gray and fell to dust at a single touch, as well as various corroded metal pieces.

"Anything of interest," called Angela. Murtagh responded.

"No, just things long gone." They all left the room and went to the next one, finding the same things as the last.

"Up the stairs it is." Angela led the way smiling. She whipped out Tinkledeath and that watched in amazement as she cut through the corroded metal hinges as if they were butter.

"Albitr indeed," Eragon told her. She grinned. They held their questions for later, knowing Angela wouldn't reveal anything. They entered the room and Eragon felt the difference. His smell was overcome with a metallic stench and his tongue felt thick as if swollen. Saphira could be heard growling. Murtagh drew both of his swords, and held them up in a cross. Angela sheathed Tinkledeath and withdrew a velvet pouch, removed a handful of silvery colored dust, and threw it into the air. It spread outward, its tendrils eeping into every crack like water on brick, and the whole room glowed. It glowed violet and Angela sucked in a breath. They looked at her.

"Magic, powerful magic, exists here, still." Eragon and Saphira joined minds, ready to do battle.

As they all inched forward, dust on the green-gray stone billowing up in soft puffs, something leapt out from the shadows.

Murtagh yelled in shock as a stone sphere, five feet tall and five feet wide, stood before them. However it was secure in a golden ring, small cogs whirling around as it spun, eight legs of the same golden material ending in sharp silver blades. Runes ran along its limbs in dizzying lines. The stone sphere spun and a slit opened. A glowing crystal eye, cyan, stared at them. Suddenly it lashed out. Murtagh deflected the blades, locking one and twisting till it broke.

The cogs activated and the seven legs readjusted, widening along the rim of the ring. Saphira roared, _**'Bring it forth so I may bathe it in flame!'**_ Solembum bounded from the room, Angela following. Eragon launched three arrows from his bow but they merely bounced off. He cursed. As Murtagh was deflected more blows, the sphere launched two blades connected to golden chains. Eragon held out his bow, reflexively, and a pained cry ripped from him as they pierced the aged wood of the longbow Garrow had made for him.

The bow was ripped from his hands. Without even thinking Eragon reached for Saphira and reached for magic. He whipped his falchion out and brought it straight into his hand. He felt no pain as Saphira took it for him and he let the ancient words from Du Domia abr Blohd fall from his lips.

The blood rose in two, thin, ribbon like streams. Quick as a striking pit viper they wrapped around the metal frame. Eragon and Murtagh moved backwards. The sentinel followed, its movement's jerky. It tried to launch another blade, but the moment the chains appeared the blade broke off. They had rusted and already flakes of ochre filled the air.

"Jump," yelled Murtagh and they both turned and leapt off the crescent balcony, Eragon pulling the falchion from his hand. The wound to both flesh and material closed instantly. As the stone sphere stumbled to the door, Saphira opened her maw, flames bathing it for a few seconds. As she stopped, believing she had triumphed, she roared in rage and shock.

"It's resistant to dragon flame! Quickly, Saphira, crush the damned thing!" Even Angela seemed frightened. With a mighty roar Saphira brought up her massive right foreleg and side swiped the mechanized enemy. The contraption slammed into the wall, rusted gears giving way and smashing, as the stone cracked. The light emanating from the crystal eye died.

* * *

The companions observed the sentinel, as Angela told them was what it was, and revealed the metal used was bronze. "Resistant to dragon fire, but not blood magic," Eragon asked. She had nodded grimly.

"They were used to fighting dragons **with** blood magic so we're lucky I gave you that book." Eragon appeared disturbed by this news and couldn't help but rub his hands. Saphira sniffed the remains with derision, her fangs showing.

_**'It may have resisted my flame, but it could not deny my strength.'**_ Solembum sniffed the stone; his ears pressed back, and made a low throaty growl.

"Come," said Murtagh, sheathing his words, "let's check again. I'm curious as to why it activated and why it didn't activate when we first arrived." He looked at Angela for that. She shrugged.

"May perhaps it guards only that room," she shrugged again and withdrew Albitr and led the way upstairs. Solembum hopped onto Saphira, clearly not wishing to put himself in danger again, and Eragon and Murtagh slowly moved upstairs. Murtagh unsheathed and Eragon brought up his falchions. His left arm out in front of him, the blade horizontal, while his right arm was over his head, the blade pointing back.

"Light, Eragon. Light, Murtagh." Two werelights, blue and red, were sent swirling around to the center of the room. They looked up, noticing a pillar at the end of the room. They jumped back. Two pillars on either side of the center still had sentinels, rested on pedestals, the eight legs hunched inwards like spiders. The blades could be seen, retracted up into the legs. The companions stayed utterly still.

Finally Angela turned slightly and looked at Eragon. "Draw up a shield," and he nodded, drawing the glyphs in midair, muttering the incantation in the ancient language. The air around the sentinels shimmered. Eragon's strength dropped precipitously. He was in danger if he wasn't careful. He would no longer be able to perform anything more than basic spells for the rest of the day.

At that they moved forward slowly. "They must guard those doors," Murtagh whispered motioning to two metal doors, green with age. They moved slowly. They passed onto a carpet, old, the color worn. A fire place was set to their left. Only soot remained of the last logs that had burned there. As they got closer to the sentinels Angela hissed out, "stop." They did so.

She withdrew from her bandolier, a clay bird. She breathed on it. It came to life and flew forth. Quick as a flash the sentinels' panels opened, cyan colored crystals glowing, but the limbs moved with immense slowness. With a shout she lunged forward, bringing Tinkledeath threw one, the sword stopping halfway as the sound of shrieking metal filled the air and red sparks flew from the creature. Murtagh dashed forward, his blades crashing against the limbs of the other.

Eragon got low to the ground and hissed as he pricked a finger and drew a glyph on each blade. He then rushed forward; glad Angela had trained him in this unique fighting style. "Bring them together," he bellowed. Both of his companions pulled and the force of their blades stuck in the sentinels brought them crashing from their perches. Eragon sliced outwards in a cross. "Jierda!" Suddenly both of the sentinels shattered into pieces. They all stood there after, breathing heavily. Angela was the first to sheathe her weapon.

"All's well that ends well. Good thinking of using the marks," She turned to the doors. "Eragon, Murtagh, check if these doors are ensorcelled." Both held up their hands, using a simple detection incantation.

"Once, there was powerful magic binding these doors, but it has long since faded. They are safe to open if they are unlocked." With that Murtagh walked forth, warily, and reached for the door handle. Suddenly an overwhelming sense of danger came over Eragon. He lunged forward, seized Murtagh's collar, and pulled him backwards. Right where Murtagh stood three stone beams came down. The beams were carved with beings unlike any Eragon had ever seen. They had elongated oval eyes, huge rectangular heads, short squat bodies, clawed hands, and necklaces of what looked to be shells.

"Well then…good thinking." Angela turned, her mouth slightly agape.

"You're nearly turned into human preserve and all you can say is 'good thinking'!?" Eragon sighed, but he didn't detect anymore danger.

_**'Move as if the ground is to give away to the bowels of the earth,'**_ said Saphira with caution. Eragon nodded and opened the first door. He was surprised to find large drawstring bags and piles of wooden boxes, all bound by old and fraying rope. Angela went to the next door and she peered in. It was the same.

"Hmm…might as well remove it then, carefully." Murtagh then cast a detection spell and informed them he couldn't sense any magic hindering them.

* * *

On an opposing mountain perch, about half of a quarter league away, little did the companions know that they were being watched over by another. A woman, garbed in black and bone with a billowing viridian cloak, observed them with one green eye open. She looked, uncaring, as if she were dead, devoid of emotion. She turned the crystal set in the scope she peered through and watched as the picture shifted to a higher resolution. Saphira's scales glittered in the light of the remaining dragon fire, kept alive by burning furniture fragments.

"Well, well," her voice was lyrical, soft, and echoed slightly as if passing through water and wind. "What do we have here?" She flicked back the hood of her cloak and fingered her tapered ear, touching the single flower shaped amethyst earring, the rubies in its center glinting with the fel glow of three sickly green werelights floating above her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Much has occurred and much will be seen. Eragon has awoken, but the nightfoil tea was only a temporary fix. He still needs to figure out how to handle his anxiety. Angela seems more and more mysterious. Will Saphira start to trust her again? Murtagh has been silent, brooding, almost as if just the muscle. But what of his thoughts? Finally...a new character watches from afar. Who is she and, most of all..., what does she want?
> 
> End Notes:
> 
> Stonescrub - A mountain weed, bramble shaped, gray
> 
> Emberflow - A thick, glowing red potion that looks like lava. It provides a heat barrier to prevent ice from forming and keeps snowfall away.
> 
> The Waystation - This place may seem important, and it is in some respects, but it's really just a glorified inn. It's a post between the surface world and the Depth Reaches, originally used to gather information and get a hot meal before going in either direction.
> 
> The Depth Reaches - SURPRISE EVERYONE! Alagaesia...has a world beneath it! The Depth Reaches are hundreds of leagues below the surface and are a series of interconnecting caverns, caves, and entire country size pieces of land deep below the earth. It possesses many wonders...and even more dangers.
> 
> Cul'gata/Cul'gatan - Settlements of the species that built the waystation, cul'gata is singular, cul'gatan is plural
> 
> Du Domia abr Blohd - AN UPDATE: This compendium has taught Eragon how to use the ancient language to manipulate his own blood into both defenses and weapons as well as augment his own abilities.
> 
> Sentinels - Large stone orbs encircled by a bronze ring of machinery with eight legs ending in sharp blades that can be launched on metal cords at enemies. Possesses a glowing cyan crystal "eye" that provides the spell that brings the machine to life.


	6. Val'synra the Whispering End

Murtagh's hacking cough filled the waystation, forcing him to kneel over and clutch the table, and he shoved the dusty bottle away. Angela clapped, laughing merrily at his predicament. "I told you," she laughed, "not to take such a large swig. This whiskey is more than old." She laughed again.

Solembum licked at his paw, ignoring the laughing. _**'Annoying,'**_ he thought. If Eragon had heard him he would've told him he felt the same way. He sorted through more bags. Octagon shaped coins of gold; stamped with seals in a language he had no knowledge of, formed small piles on the table. Blood colored rubies and black pearls followed. Ancient bronze short swords, the handles fitted with holes for fingers and flat rectangular blades, as well as bundles of arrows. They were a black colored wood, thick and dense, with bronze heads in the shape of barbed feathers. A shield, embossed in red leather, had a motif of a fierce flaming bird.

' _ **Alright, that's enough from you two.'**_ Saphira sniffed at a jar of preserved fruits, turned golden brown with age. Angela still chuckled but turned back to the table and picked up a ring, lapis lazuli, a ram head carved on the top.

"Fascinating," she pulled out a tiny magnifying glass and inspected the ring. Eragon counted out more coins and precious stones. Murtagh, after taking a huge swig of water this time, picked up a statue. It was carved in the same shape of the creatures on the pillars in the vault room. He looked at it with distaste.

"What's that," asked Angela distractedly as she observed another ring of the same make. Murtagh shrugged and set it down. As he did so a sound rang out and they all paused and locked at the statue.

' _ **It's hollow,'**_ said Solembum, turning back to inspecting his paws. Angela and Eragon joined him, staring at the statue warily, but eventually Angela picked up the statue and inspected it with the magnifying glass. She eventually found and fingered a sliver of crystal.

"It's spelled closed, but I can't tell the nature of the spell. No clue how to open or close the damn thing." She set it down, turning back to the other goods, clearly interested in moving on.

"We'll take it with us, but for now think nothing of it." With that Eragon turned back and continued to sift through the other items. Murtagh grunted.

"Oh ho…what is this," said Angela with interest. They watched her pick up a rather long box, wrapped in canvas ancient, bound by a bronze chain. She unwound the chain and pulled off the canvas. It was a perfectly preserved rosewood case, ivory inlaid, with silver scroll work on the rim. They gathered around her to inspect it.

"Any magic," inquired Murtagh. Angela shrugged, unsure. He grunted and then motioned up and down. "You can tell by the size that whatever is in there is long. It's most likely a weapon, maybe a bow, but if a bladed weapon it will be a great sword. Maybe a short spear." She nodded.

"Well, this is rather fascinating." Angela fingered the ornate scroll work and tipped the case back. "This," she pointed at the script, "is language I recognize." Single horizontal lines with various designs underneath them, elegant curves and thorny tips, ran along the entire length of the rim.

"Is it from the beings who built this place," Eragon asked curiously. She cocked her head to the side and then surprised them with the answer.

"Sort of." Solembum jumped up and pawed at the case, sniffing it,

' _ **She seems surprised and unsure,'**_ Saphira flicked out her tongue. Eragon inquired about what she sensed and thought. All she said was, _**'old.'**_ He nodded.

"This case holds a weapon, a ranged weapon like you said Murtagh, unlike any you currently know of. The weapon was created by beings who were familiar with the builders of this waystation, as the language on the case writes out this weapon's name. However the forgers are not the same species as them. The forgers are the progenitors," here she gave pause before shocking them, "of werecats." She flicked open the clasps, and lifted. They all gasped and Solembum meowed.

The recurve longbow was made of an inky black wood, the ends covered in a bone like material carved into the shape of dragon skulls. The tips of the horns on each head were sharp spikes of blued steel. Blue steel filigree with spiny leaves of amethyst rang along the whole length. The bow was strung, but the string wasn't sinew. It was a strand of white gold. "The writing," Angela pointed. "It names the bow as…" she peered down, "Val'synra, the Whispering End. It is a weapon of no little magic. However it's been forged more recently. The weresabres, for those were indeed who created this, didn't possess these techniques for forging steel or spinning minerals till near the end." Solembum was wide eyed, standing completely still, gazing upon the bow. Angela pulled back and removed her scarf and dabbed at her head. "I need to think," and then she went to the opening and began to puff on her pipe.

"What's her issue," wondered Murtagh aloud though he reached forward for the bow before stopping. His eyes flicked to Angela.

' _ **No need for pause, the magic isn't active. The dialect is old but I recognize some of the writing.'**_ Solembum's voice was shaky. He seemed to be having an emotional reaction. He closed his eyes, then suddenly jumped off the table, crawled up Saphira, and curled up at the joint between her shoulders and neck. Saphira turned back and brushed him with the tip of her snout.

Murtagh took out the bow. "It is light," and he twirled it around. It seemed to shimmer in the air as he whipped it about. As he spun it again Angela came up and plucked it out of his hands and inspected the ends, tapping them with her fingers.

"Ah ha, just as I thought, weresabre ivory." She put it down in the case and went about gathering up the archaic arrows. She located another bundle wrapped in canvas, a quiver, black leather and bronze motifs decorating the side. She filled it and then gave the quiver to Eragon as well as shoved the bow case towards him. At the quizzical looks she received she only shrugged and said, "Your old one was destroyed, I don't have use for it, and Murtagh already has a bow. You keep it."

Eragon inspected the bow and slowly became elated. While he missed his old one, the remains having been packed away in a bag, this new bow was clearly a superior weapon, one of war. Angela walked over to their piles of supplies and looked to the boys. "Come on then, no point in wasting time." She began to pull things apart. Normally they would've questioned, but for once her no nonsense mood brooked no argument.

* * *

Murtagh brushed off his hands. They were finished. A two wheeled liter was strung to the back of Tornac. They had used a good amount of supplies and now anything they had left over, found in the waystation, or the necessary foodstuffs were tucked away neatly. _**'This contraption will have difficulty in the Depth Reaches,'**_ noted Saphira.

"Yes, yes it will Bjartskular, but we'll manage," Angela patted Saphira on the jowls and picked up her own rucksack. She tightened her bandolier and then looked at the boys. "We have plenty of time. The day is only half over. We might as well make some progress." She seemed eager to leave the premises.

"What is the matter with you," Murtagh asked, hands resting on his sword's hilt. "I'm eager to be gone as well for I don't wish to tarry, but you seem unnaturally worried." Angela harrumphed.

"No such thing as unnaturally worried my dear. In my view being worried is such a waste of time and you can't be unnaturally worried, though unnatural things can worry you." He blinked like an owl at her and turned to Eragon who had long ago lost interest. His head was throbbing.

"If you must know I am indeed wanting to be off. We left behind a trail. On top of that I've no clue if that doorway will close or not," she pointed to the entrance, "and I'd rather not be here to find out if the Empire will see. We need to leave, **now**."

Eragon turned to Murtagh and nodded, picking up his wooden frame pack, and walked Snowfire to the ceramic door. Eragon realized something. "Umm Angela? How is Saphira supposed to get in there?" She looked at him bewildered before realizing.

"Oh, yes…well increase the size of the whole so Saphira can wiggle on through." Saphira balked at that.

' _ **I am NOT going to crawl through a dirt hole like a common weasel. Think of what would happen to my scales. They'll chip off.'**_ Her vanity was not currently amusing and Angela let her know so in not so many words. Before an argument could begin Eragon reached out with magic and muttered a spell.

"Deloi Moi." Soon a hole big enough for Saphira to get through had formed. However it left his head absolutely screaming for relief and he gulped down ice water from the hollowed out gourd he used when traveling.

"Saphira, please, just do it. Angela is right. We left a trail and should be off," Eragon rubbed at his temple. Saphira could sense his pain and grudgingly slithered outside and forced herself into the ground only because Eragon didn't need an argument.

Murtagh nodded, resolved to the going ons and shouldered his own pack before leading Tornac to the door. Solembum hopped into the liter determined to take a long nap. Angela smiled.

"Into the deep we go," she sang out merrily.

* * *

"Audr." The woman flung to the top of the mountain, the whispered word propelling her as a dizzying speed. She alighted on a patch of sparse grass, the ends chewed by horses. Footprints littered the ground, humans. Hoof marks from horses as well as claw marks of a dragon and the paws of a large cat were easily visible. The remains of a fire left a sooty spot in the center.

She waved her hand, muttering incantations, and the area soon returned to normal, as if never distubred. She knocked an arrow to her bow and stalked forward, low, as she approached the archway that opened the waystation. She moved slowly, her foot steps making no sound. She then somersaulted into a large pine tree next to the entrance.

She narrowed her dead eyes before spinning and back flipping off the branch as a massive paw, the size of a barrel lid, swiped for her. She set her mouth in a thin line and glared at the oversized bone white sabretoothed cat looking down at her with bright red eyes. Black stripes ran down its back and side.

The woman whipped her head back and narrowed her eyes, mentally jabbing at her attacker. It shook its head in annoyance. _**'No reason for that, alfa.'**_

"Silence," her eerily echoed voice cut through the air. As usual the massive cat's hair stood on end at the sound. She whipped around, pulling her viridian hood up. The sabretooth jumped down and followed. As they entered he turned to the entrance and uttered a deep roar. Immediately the stones forming the low stone wall on the outside rose up, piece by piece, and closed. They were sealed in darkness, the only light coming from the red feline eyes. Three fel green werelights appeared, spun to the top, and illuminated the room. The remains of the sentinel were visible in the right corner next to the stairs. The sabretooth cat slunk over.

' _ **Humph, they fought a sentinel. I'm amazed the fools survive...well the two humans that is,'**_ the sabretooth sniffed the sentinel's remains. The woman came over, sheathing her arrow, and brushed at the soot covering one of the legs. Her leather gauntlet left behind a clear line.

"Dragon fire, from the great azure beast we saw," she stood and cast out spells. In the ancient language she spoke of past events and identity, of the reactions to the earth, of its interactions with other kinds, and of direction and knowing which way they had come and gone from.

' _ **You really don't think that witch wouldn't cover her tracks.'**_ The woman didn't respond other than to flick her hands about at the clear signs of habitation.

' _ **I stand corrected, a rare thing for my kind.'**_ The woman merely looked at him; a silvery white eyebrow rising up, and responded.

"You're old." Her spells left a gossamer web of magical strands over the floor. Ghostly prints could be seen, marking where many had walked, however the greatest strands were colored indigo and covered the open door at the top of the crescent balcony. "Come" and she ran, leaped, somersaulted, and landed deftly on the edge. The great cat followed in two leaps, claws elongating, as the woman knocked an arrow.

They stalked forward carefully. Two more sentinels, ripped almost in half, were splayed on the floor. "What do you smell, weresabre?" He growled low at her.

' _ **You know my name, alfa.'**_ She observed him with contempt.

"Leave it be and tell me what was here. My spells cannot make the information clear. All they detect is magic and the fact that it's old." The weresabre sniffed and then chuffed at the air. His ears set back and his growled low.

' _ **Chaugaulacis,'**_ he said as if the answer made him feel sick to his stomach. He then turned and stalked low from the room. After a quick search and not finding anything of interest the woman followed her companion from the room. He lay underneath the werelight inspecting his paws.

"What is Chaugaulacis," she asked as she leaned on her bow. Long ago the weresabre hadn't been forthcoming, but soon learned that his new companion was less forthcoming than even the most guarded of his kind. So he had to become the talkative one and that was absolutely relative to them.

' _ **A Chaugaulacis, for it is an object not the name of just one, is in fact a type of ancient longbow made by my kind for use when in a humanoid form. They were first created during the Second Barrow War when necromancy was used to raise our ancestors against us. The Asdhur, though then we were not as integral to each other, taught us techniques to shape our bones and flesh into weapons. We turned our own fangs and the bones of our past into somewhat sentient weapons. Over time the techniques were refined until we could forge the ultimate ranged weapon. Those techniques are long gone. Only the alfakyn come close today to matching our prowess,'**_ and he observed her bow with a critical eye.

She inspected the string for a while before removing a piece of jerky and chewing on it as she let a small flame flicker about her hand. When she finished eating she put out the werelights and moved to the ceramic gate. The weresabre followed her. _**'So you still plan on following.'**_ It was a statement.

"Yes, I do. After all…to catch the prey I first need the bait." She smashed the ceramic gate with her foot and bound down to the path. The massive cat rolled his eyes, but followed. _**'Someone has to keep The Dark Lady out of trouble after all,'**_ he reminded himself. Hopefully he'd be able to convince her, as he'd been trying to, that this endeavor was pure suicide.

* * *

For a few days and nights they traveled along narrow pathways without much incident. White werelights and torches were kept lit so Murtagh could see. The ledges of these underground passes were steep and they weren't able to see the bottom. At times their wards warned them of danger and it ended up being air that fell still and dead. Sometimes pockets of poisonous gas ruptured and they'd have to conjure a bubble to ensure they could breathe as they moved through the foul smog. Overall it was a rather boring experience considering the constant trials and tribulations of the north. On the fourth night of camping under pure shadow they saw lights in the distance as theirs were extinguished.

"What is it," whispered Murtagh to Angela who lay against a rock and peered out. Solembum lay asleep next to her as if he was rather unconcerned.

"Looks to me like fluorescent plants, but I could be wrong." She narrowed her eyes. Saphira snaked her head down.

' _ **Should we inspect it,'**_ and Eragon echoed her sentiments. Angela shrugged.

"There are plenty of dangers down here, more so than the surface world, but I'm not sure. I really don't know. I'm surprised we haven't run into some of them already, especially those nasty Voranarch." Before they could even ask she continued with words that sent Eragon and Murtagh's scalp a tingling, "intelligent arachnoids that have lived down here for years and have the allegiance of all other arachnids. Rather disgusting creatures, very xenophobic, rather like to eat two legged humanoids." She took out an eyeglass and a wooden pipe, locking them together, and peered out.

"Yep, definitely plants. Oh goodie," she cheered slightly, causing everyone to shush her. "Oh please calm down. There are mushrooms there. Fluorescent ones!" She clapped slightly and went about gathering supplies. They heard a thump and she groaned.

"Werelight, boys, werelight! Even I don't have perfect eyesight." Murtagh sighed but cast out a red orb.

"Angela it would be safer to go in the morning," said Eragon in a calm voice. His meditation that day had been hard, but four straight days of little danger and worry had allowed him to create a modicum of peace within his naturally raging mind.

"Nonsense. Besides, the only way we can tell if it's morning or night is because of that annoying timepiece. What would happen if I accidentally dropped it off the ledge? Anywho a nighttime adventure would do us good. It's been so terribly boring since we left the waystation." As if that was final she strapped on her bandolier and withdrew her poniard. Solembum padded after her as she wandered off. Murtagh made a series of exasperated sounds before slinging on his quiver and picking up his bow.

"No," said Eragon, "stay here with Saphira and guard the camp. I'll handle this." He then loped off into the night after Angela.

* * *

Using his own conjured werelight for help Eragon deftly moved about, looking for the light tracks of his two companions. A few minutes later he came to a wide ridge and crossed over to a plateau. Here he found Angela positively giddy. Patches of fluorescent chartreuse lichen covered multiple rocks and patches of earth while a thin stream of water, maybe a foot deep, wound through the area. Bunches of electric blue mushrooms with bright white stalks popped up every few feet and it was at one of these bunches that Angela now stood with various instruments surrounding her.

She looked up as she heard him approach. "Look at this, look at this! Entirely new species! I've never seen these before! Look," she grabbed his hand. She pulled on a wool glove with leather padded fingers and picked up a brass rod. It was the same kind of rod that first shocked him in Angela's shop in Teirm. She held it to the mushrooms and before it touched a spark ran in between the mushroom cap and rod. "It's a natural bio-conductor! Simply marvelous!"

"Angela," Eragon sighed exasperatedly, "is this really the time?"

"Oh it's always the time to learn!" With that she began chattering away about electricity, conductivity, how the mushrooms might be accomplishing such things, and more. As Eragon tried to absorb the information he noticed the lack of a certain aloof werecat.

"Where is Solembum," Angela looked up at that, cutting off her discussion of how the mushroom might be using the electricity and looked around.

"Oh he was here briefly then stalked off, sniffing this way and that." She then returned to the mushroom. After a few more minutes Eragon told her he wanted to look around, just to be rid of her chattering, and walked off.

A few yards away he came to a pool surrounded by not just lichen and mushrooms, but patches of moss. As he observed it he heard skittering and looked up alert, hands launching to his twin falchions. Soon a cat like shape appeared as he started to slip them from their sheaths. Solembum sat down in front of him, pawing at the moss. He groaned. "Between you and Angela I'll end up with a heart attack." Solembum flicked an ear.

* * *

' _ **You are foolish.'**_ The weresabre was lying down as they observed the werecat and human from above the pool. The rock was devoid of life, save them, and a massive net was currently being checked over by the cloaked woman. She moved her hand along the black mesh with a small green spark.

"Silence," she hissed out. Her voice had dropped so low only the massive feline could hear her odd voice. "It's almost time." She finished her work and stood, inspecting. She nodded her head once and then peered over the edge with her bow in one hand. "It seems they aren't completely separated. To close for a clean shot. Not to worry. Secondary move." She stalked back to the sabretooth and waved her head. Her spell deactivated and the folds of shadow and light fell away. Two massive chests, iron bound, floated down and set on the rock. The tops sprung open.

She removed a jar of foul yellow vapor and without ceremony tossed it over her shoulder as the weresabre gave a huge mental sigh. _**'You really ought to talk to someone about your lack of people skills.'**_

* * *

Just as Eragon turned to head back he heard a whistling sound and then he jumped in shock as a glass jar shattered, a sickly yellow smoke starting to spread anywhere. Solembum bounded away instantly as if his tail were on fire. Within seconds Angela was at Eragon's side pulling him away. "Chlorine gas! And…what in Angvard's name…it's replicating! Run!" Eragon looked behind him and was shocked to see the gas spreading, ghostly specters seemingly made of the substance crawling outward.

They ran helter-skelter. Solembum had clearly reached Saphira, for a great roar shook the cavern, unmistakably draconic in origin. Angela moaned. "I understand she's upset, but if the Voranarch didn't know we were here they do now. Their webbing vibrates from tremors and that includes sound," she muttered. As they approached the camp Murtagh could be seen saddling the horses and stuffing everything into bags. Before he could speak a sharp screech was heard close by, stone on stone.

"Voranarch passages probably," said Angela grimly. Murtagh withdrew Zar'roc and picked up the ancient shield they'd picked up.

"Which way out?" He was in battle mode. Angela motioned to the right, down an adjacent pathway. He spurred the horses into action and the five companions and their two beasts flew down the steep incline. The liter bounced and bobbed as they moved away from potential enemies and the advancing chlorine cloud. They came to a wide opening, stalagmites and stalactites everywhere. "Well," asked Murtagh. Angela looked about the floor then motion slightly to the east.

"Down this way, it runs along the shore line and the mountains there." They moved as quickly as possible, routinely looking behind. Little did they notice a woman bobbing and weaving along, pouncing from pinnacle to pinnacle or that she was followed by a slinking feline the size of a large ox.

The companions came to a large drop, but were surprised to see the bottom. "There must be a way down," muttered Eragon. They all set about searching along the rim until Saphira called out.

' _ **Look here, ancient stairs. The same material as the waystation's grate.'**_ She pointed with a claw and the companions cajoled the horses down the worn steps. Just as they reached the bottom they stopped in shock. A long sleek boat was moored at a stone slab, worn with use, on an inky black river. The boat was a dark wood, slim in its design almost like a canoe, but wide enough to have three people stand abreast. A square cabin with a hip-and-gable roof was lighted with four odd shaped purple flameless lanterns. Two large fins of dark green sea glass fanned up from the back. Murtagh immediately spun around.

"We've walked into an ambush." Just as he said that a massive black net launched out of the darkness and ensnared Eragon. He cried out in pain as electric shocks ran through him. Saphira roared, moving to slash away at the net surrounding her thrashing rider. As she did so a mighty roar not so unlike her own came from the darkness and a massive white cat, ten times the size of Solembum, leaped out and latched onto her throat.

The adventurers watched in shock as Saphira whipped her neck around and dislodged the cat. _**'Watch over Eragon, he's been forced unconscious again! I'll handle this overgrown furball,'**_ she growled out. They all ran to the rider, three arrows meeting the ground right in front of their feet as they came close. Jumping back, they spun around. An individual, cloaked, ran from the ledge and jumped down the twenty feet. The person rolled, sprung up, and launched three more arrows. Murtagh hid behind his shield and took them. He was launched backwards with incredible concussive force.

' _ **The strength of the shooter is monstrous,'**_ he thought as he tried to take breaths of air. Angela was launching bottles of substances, which the user deftly knocked away with their bow, sending the objects spinning away with perfect accuracy. None of them broke until they landed far from the vicinity. Solembum pounced, but the shooter spun, disappearing in a flash of shadow. They rematerialized and kicked Solembum into the air, jumping up, corkscrewing, and launching him with a powerful kick right at Murtagh.

The swordsman held out his arms and caught the shaken and injured werecat. He looked up and yelped as a black rope with stone malachite orbs on either end wrapped around him and Solembum. He struggled and the ropes tightened even more. He heard a roar and bright flash.

Saphira bathed the shore in blue and white flames, the massive predator she fought dodging out of her way. It had a few nasty gashes of its own, but its swiftness and smaller size made it a dangerous foe. Saphira's neck and head were fast, but her foe was pure speed. It launched again, this time to her right hind leg and clamped down. Saphira growled and whacked it with her tail.

Murtagh looked back as he heard the clash of metal on something he couldn't exactly place. He gaped in shock. Angela was wielding Tinkledeath, but much to her clear shock, their foe was beating it with her own hands. An eerie green light surrounded them and every time she struck out it sounded as if her palm struck flat on stone. "You will not best us, elf!"

Angela was angry now as she somersaulted away from her foe. As she landed she unsheathed a large bell and rang. The elf, for if Angela was right then that would explain the speed and agility, paused as if unsure. It then started forward as a great conscious, old and feral, roared out, _**'No, my Lady, don't!'**_

A great concussive blast launched the elf back. Her viridian cloak whipped off and Angela and Murtagh gasped. Even Saphira paused. The elven woman was beautiful, but in a dark way. Her tawny skin had a slightly ashen look to it as if she'd spent time in a grave. Her green eyes stared as if dead, but they had a dangerous look to them as if holding back untold amounts of rage. Her lustrous black hair was the color of night, but a single strip of silver ran through it. Her armor was very flattering to her figure and in some places not practical for it left her exposed, but based on her skills displayed, Murtagh doubted it was an issue. She was clearly a deadly opponent. Her expression filled with icy lines of rage.

She hissed out something Murtagh couldn't hear. Three sickly green werelights appeared. They then erupted into green flames. "Murtagh, get down!" Angela was wide eyed with fright and bared her arms as the world seemed to shimmer around her and she dipped low. Before she could finish speeding herself up, for Murtagh knew that was the goal, a white blur belted past her. The massive feline landed behind the elf. Saphira stormed after it.

Just as Saphira came upon Angela, the elf woman activated her spell. She whipped her hands in front of her, weaving signs, then around her wrists multiple flat circles of green energy formed and fanned out, runes spinning among them and around a rather odd six pointed symbol. She then held her hands up to the sky, claw like.

The flaming werelights launched forward with a crackling sound, one after the other, expanding to three feet each. The companions were knocked out as a massive concussive force of spring green flames met them. Saphira flew backwards, landing on her left wing, Murtagh and Solembum knocked against a rock at the shore, and Angela was left lying in a smoldering crater. Without missing a beat the elf woman jumped forward, picked up Eragon, tossed him in the boat, and unmoored the black ship.

With that she and her primal companion set off down the river into the dark recesses of the Depth Reaches.

* * *

' _ **That was completely foolish of you! That bell used sound to create a binding wave and now all of your wards are stripped from you! The shade could find you easily now if he looked with care! On top of that you used an incredibly dangerous spell! Using the Seal was foolish! Your recklessness will be the end of you!'**_ The weresabre's fur stood on end, his face set in a snarl, teeth showing. Unfortunately for him his companion couldn't care less by the looks of it. She was standing over their captive, observing him intently.

"He's beginning to look like one of us," she said after some while. The sabretooth, still furious, stalked over and looked at him. The human was indeed gaining more angular features. His cheekbones were prominent on his pale face, his ears slightly tapered, and his lips were fuller. His complexion was pale and his short hair, though thick, was dark. He sniffed him.

The scent of forest, magic, dragon, and a human met his nostrils. He shook his head. The combination was like the scent of a dusky pine mixed with charred meat and sweat. An underlying hint of a thick metallic taste, like blood, came after. He smelt of power, untold power, and danger, but youth as well. Before he could say anything the elf woman turned away and inspected the ship. She gave instructions in the ancient language and the ship adjusted accordingly. "We'll be home in due time," she had switched completely to the ancient language. The great feline joined her.

' _ **You'll have much to answer for. The youth will be quite upset as will your own council.'**_ At this the woman laughed, a somewhat musical sound akin to birds chirping and glass breaking, before looking down at the weresabre.

"I am the Dark Lady, Queen of the Shadow Elves, and Ranger-General of the Ghost Striders. None shall challenge my prerogative. I have my bait and soon my prey will be in my hands."

The weresabre harrumphed. _**'And then, Your Majesty,'**_ he asked mockingly. She didn't notice his tone, her face setting into stone.

"And then," she whispered, "Durza will be mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Eragon is knocked out, again. He's been kidnapped and everyone else is knocked out. The stalker turned kidnapper is a female elf and she's being accompanied by a giant sabretooth cat. Sounds like trouble is on the horizon.
> 
> End Notes:
> 
> Val'synra, the Whispering End (Val-sin-Ra): A Chaugaulacis, a kind of recurve longbow, with currently unknown properties. Forged in the past using weresabre fang ivory and white gold. Relatively new chaugaulacis in terms of techniques used.
> 
> Weresabre - Massive sabretooth cats that are ten times the size of werecats and progenitors. Old beyond reckoning and possessing the ability to live for multiple millennium. There civilization has long since disbanded.
> 
> Chaugaulacis (Haw-gow-luh-siss) - A bow made of spun minerals and weresabre ivory that has been spelled into shapes. Set on a wooden frame.
> 
> Second Barrow War - A war between factions of weresabre's with one side engaging in necromancy. Resulted in the Asdhur, then just allies of the Weresabres, teaching the weresabre's how to manipulate flesh, ivory, blood, and bone with magic.
> 
> Asdhur (As-thur) - A civilization of currently unknown humanoids, their civilization is an amalgamation of Hawaiian/Polynesian and Hindu Indian civilization. Check the encyclopedia for more details. Primarily lived in the Depth Reaches, skilled in masonry and blood magic.
> 
> Voranarch - An arachnoid species of varying types, live in a caste system, have thrived since


	7. The Night Queen of Neth'Anyar (chap 7 pt1)

' _ **If fate,'**_ thought Eragon as his head throbbed painfully, _**'could please be so kind as to stop knocking me out I'd be forever thankful. At this rate one of Angela's slaps and I'll be drooling permanently for the rest of my life.'**_ He slowly opened his eyes. He had lain awake for an unknown amount of time. He had had trouble remembering the events until he finally recalled being knocked unconscious by the shocks of a great black net. He was surprised then to find himself propped against the side of the ship they had encountered, bound in black rope that tightened anytime he moved a significant amount.

He looked about, eyes narrowed. The roof of the cabin had purple erisdar, flameless lanterns, in the shape of skulls of some creature he couldn't place. His pack lay a good distance away as did his weapons. He inched upward slightly and the ropes tightened. He groaned in frustration. _**'If only I could,'**_

' _ **I wouldn't do that if I were you,'**_ sounded a deep and majestic voice in his mind. He whipped his head so fast the ropes tightened again. A great white sabretooth cat stalked towards him, red eyes alight. _**'Here,'**_ it said as it came to him. It made an odd gurgling sound with its nose and mouth, breathing on him. The ropes lessened, but didn't fall. _**'Now you won't end up strangling yourself by struggling though you cannot escape. Do not attempt that by the way. I'd be honor bound to stop you.'**_ The cat then curled up on the deck, lay his head down, and inspected him. Eragon threw up mental shields, focusing on memories of Saphira. The cat seemed amused and grinned.

' _ **A brave attempt, young Rider, but I do not seek entrance to your mind. I merely find myself bored.'**_ Eragon looked at him; for he was indeed a male by tell of his voice, with incredulity.

' _ **Since you seem intent on being rude, which is surprising as I'm sure the witch would have taught you manners, knowing her, but alas…I shall start.'**_ He pulled his head up and bowed it. _**'I am the weresabre Huulthraem, Master of Ages, last scion and Elder of the Snowmane Tribe, and chief adviser, majordomo, to The Night Queen.'**_ He looked at Eragon and waited. After a while he said with amusement, _**'The proper thing to do is to say hello and introduce yourself back.'**_ Eragon jerked slightly as if startled.

"Umm," he was cut off with a hiss.

' _ **Think your answers lest the queen hear us, she is inside looking over matters of state that sorely need attention since she's been gone.'**_ His tone sounded as if he didn't approve of whatever absence this Night Queen had engaged in.

' _ **I do not give my name to my enemies willingly.'**_ Eragon closed off his mind again. Huulthraem rolled his eyes.

' _ **It will be discovered before long, Rider, for the Night Queen is not to be denied. Fortunately for you I am still inclined to help. She won't listen to me and…"**_ He trailed off, clearly exasperated and annoyed with this so-called Night Queen. He shook his great head and turned back. _**'In a few hours' time, for the spells on this ship ensorcell it with great speed, we will be at the capital of the Shadow Elves. This great settlement, Neth'Anyar, is well hidden and well-guarded. It was crafted from the remains of a cul'gata, a settlement. Ah you know what it is,'**_ Eragon's expression must've given him away. ' _ **It has been expanded from its original form and shape and is now the greatest of homes of The Night Queen's people. Your companions are ill-equipped to find it. Conversing with me and understanding what I have to say will go a long way in ensuring your safety.'**_

Huulthraem then curled up, closing his eyes, content to ignore Eragon it seemed. The rider retreated deep within himself. He thought of his friends, of Saphira. Saphira's reaction would be to struggle till free and then devour her enemies. He smiled lightly, but knew that wouldn't be possible. He then thought of the others and came to a conclusion.

' _ **Okay…what would Murtagh and Angela do…Murtagh would strategize and Angela would tell me to breathe."**_ Eragon did just that, closing his eyes, and envisioned the world around him. He tried to reach out to the world with his mind but felt his way blocked. _**'Magic,'**_ he thought grimly. He breathed again, and as he did he flashbacked to a sparring session with Murtagh…

* * *

_Eragon groaned as he was knocked flat on his back again. Murtagh stood above him, breathing heavily, not exactly unharmed, but faring better. "Again," he said. He stalked away as Eragon slowly got up from the dirt and retrieved his two newly forged falchions. A rather nasty fight with a wolf that had left him battered and bruised, with three claw marks on his upper left arm for a permanent reminder, had necessitated the switch. Angela had introduced him to a fighting style, which went by the name Gur'khagan. She had then revealed her huthvir, a weapon that dwarf priests used, and taught Eragon the way of Durgrimst Quan, the dwarven religious clan._

_The northern woods and high mountains weren't suited to open arms combat. It required stealth and dexterity. The lower oxygen and confined spaces thanks to the mountain pines restricted movement. On top of that greater constitution was needed to handle the larger foes, as Murtagh demonstrated when he had faced down a cave bear several times larger than the horses. Eragon inspected the falchions. At first they seemed to be large skinning knives, the handles made of large horker tusks that served as pommel, grip, and the end guard. The blades shimmered, the water rippled steel perfect for taking blows. However Murtagh still bested him in an open field. Eragon stood his own with a regular sword and Murtagh routinely couldn't best him, but neither could he best Murtagh. However now…He groaned again. "This is pointless," he called out. Murtagh laughed._

" _You're not looking at the field. I watched your sessions. Gur'khagan and the Way of the Quan should've provided you at least a crucial lesson in knowing what you're looking at. You need to be more observant" He marched to him and gripped Eragon by the shoulders. "Look at the world around you. Tornac taught me that during my first lessons in Uru'baen. It is ever more important now that you learn a new style. I already know how to fight in close quarters, but you being a rider means you must know more. On top of that remember what Angela said."_

_Eragon sighed, but recited her words. "The King already knows the fighting styles you employ, but by learning mine you may trip him up just yet." Murtagh nodded and told him to take his stance again._

* * *

Eragon pulled back from the memory and breathed deeply as he calmed himself. _**'Look at the world around me,'**_ so he did. He was in uncharted territory, literally, and his mind was blocked. Trying magic wasn't possible and an escape attempt would be dangerous as the weresabre had mentioned he'd stop him. On top of that there was an elf, and an alleged queen at that, so escape was absolutely out of the question. On top of that he had no weapons on his person or within reach and was physically bound. He could attempt to break the bonds, but he didn't know his captors strength or power. He imagined it was formidable considering they had captured him. He breathed again coming to a decision.

' _ **Evan, my name is Evan.'**_ He directed the thought to the weresabre who flicked his ear, not waking, but responded.

' _ **You lie.'**_ Eragon was taken aback, throwing up mental shields. The weresabre shifted, stretching and yawning, revealing just how long his fangs were. Eragon's forearm was about two inches shorter than them. He gulped.

' _ **She taught you to observe though…good, then I may speak with you.'**_ The weresabre padded forward and sat directly in front of him. _**'You are in grave danger.'**_

' _ **Tell me something I don't know,'**_ Eragon bit back. The weresabre cuffed him in the head with his massive paw.

' _ **Don't be glib with your elders,'**_ Huulthraem growled out. _**'The Queen doesn't care what happens to you, but she is not the one who wishes to bring you harm...at least not much as her foe. To her you are a means for an end, as is her rule over the Sundavr Alfakyn, the Shadow Elves, but she is not without reason. Reigning and ruling take a specific kind of temperament. However a great revenge burns inside of her, Rider, a want for revenge greater than anything I have ever seen, and for that she is prone to foolishness.'**_ He looked at the cabin as Eragon thought. Finally after a time he decided to venture.

' _ **Where are we currently and where is this great city you mention?'**_ At that question the weresabre seemed delighted to answer.

' _ **We are sailing on the main body of The Ganga River and yes it is really named Go in the Ancient Language. As to where the city is hidden…'**_ he trailed off and projected images of the river sailing a few more leagues, then veering off to a tributary slightly to the right, and ending at a massive plateau with a single pathway leading inwards from shore.

' _ **The name of the cul'gata that it was built from is long lost, but this area of the Depth Reaches has always been known as Masram'mele. It comes from two words that mean, roughly, a physical state, a country of sorts, and merry. So essentially we're in happy land.'**_ Huulthraem seemed incredibly amused by this and chuckled low in his throat. Eragon felt that this place was anything but happy. However he decided to press ahead with his plan of gaining as much information as possible.

' _ **I thought all elves lived in Du Weldenvarden.'**_ Huulthraem seemed to take on the countenance of a man standing beside a deathbed.

The weresabre sighed, _**'no, no young Rider, tis not the case. It is a tragic tale, one I witnessed, but I suppose without it I wouldn't have had so many interesting adventures at my advanced age…"**_ Huulthraem curled up. _**'Long ago, only a century or so after the elves arrived from Alalea, a young explorer discovered an entrance to the Depth Reaches. The entrance lay underneath a settlement that became the city then called Illirea and now Uru'baen. The elf in question became obsessed with exploring the reaches below and soon many agreed that such an endeavor should be taken. However the elves blood ran hot then. They encountered a vicious species in these lands, beings akin to spiders, and entered into a violent series of skirmishes. These creatures, the Voranarch as they are called, broke the surface once in retaliation. They slaughtered half the elves in Illirea.'**_ Eragon sat, white in the face, with shock but wanting to know more.

' _ **The Elven Lords and Ladies as well as Arseathehl, the King at the time, blamed the elves who wished to explore for making such an enemy appear. I disagree with their reasoning, but alas. The arguments quickly grew so fierce that threats and bloodshed were inevitable. The fear was understandable in a certain context, for the elves still remembered the grave mistake that had forced them to sail east to the land above us.'**_

' _ **So the elves who wished to be explorers, a small group in comparison to the millions of Alfakyn at the time, permanently split and disappeared beneath the earth. The elves of the surface soon, within the centuries, forgot of their lost brethren and assumed them dead. They sealed any entrance to the Depth Reaches they could find. Since they were more akin to your species then, they had short memories. Those who came down here began to live of their own accord and developed their own culture. That is how they arose, the Sundavr Alfakyn, the Shadow Elves.'**_

After that Eragon began asking question after question. Huulthraem seemed pleasantly amused at this and was glad to answer as many questions as possible, such as the species that built the waystation.

' _ **They were called the Asdhur, but only one remains of their race. I know her and she is unnaturally old, as well as I am. Were she to die all pure bloods of their race would be gone. As it is it matters little. They will never rise again.'**_

Eragon continued to ask about them, but Huulthraem refused to reveal much of their history close to and surrounding the time of their fall. Eragon asked more of the Shadow Elves and of their Night Queen. Huulthraem revealed much of their history and how they differed, such as using stone and roots instead of wood to build, Eragon surprised to what that the elves sung their homes into creation, to their struggles against the Voranarch. _**'The Shadow Elves consider this their home now, just as much as the Voranarch, so they fight with ferocity. However their lack of unification up until two years ago was a constant problem. Politics is so incredibly trying between them.'**_ This was another topic he wouldn't discuss in detail. Eragon surmised that the Night Queen was a recent addition. On and on they went.

' _ **You're much more talkative than the werecat the Night Queen harmed.'**_ Bitterness crept into his voice. Huulthraem expressed his exasperation.

' _ **Again, I am not allowed to speak of what she wishes only that you are in danger, but not from her. That said I am truly sorry for hurting your dragon and for Her Majesty's actions. As for my inclination to speak…I am old and have experienced great loneliness and sorrow. The years have taught me that you don't need to speak long with great words, but you should speak with those it matters to converse with. It keeps the madness at bay. Besides, good manners and decent conversation is what anyone needs.'**_

And so they talked and talked, the Ganga River being cut through as the ship sailed along at a breakneck pace. _**'If she is a queen why does she travel alone and in such a plain vessel,'**_ asked Eragon as he looked about. Huulthraem hummed.

' _ **Because she is an excellent hunter. She could not traipse around with her guard and hope to take you, no. Not even I was supposed to come, but I felt it best. As for this vessel you are correct. This is merely a clipper, though smaller than the surface versions. The royal galleon is fiercer and deadlier.'**_

Before Eragon could inquire again about another topic the doors to the cabin flew open. Out stepped the Night Queen, as Eragon had been told she was called, and looked upon them both with contempt.

She wore a viridian cloak, her black hair with the single silvery streak visible under her hood in the violet light of the erisdar. Tawny, but ashen, skin was as tight as a drum on her lithe frame. She moved about with liquid grace. Her greaved boots, gauntlets, bracers, vambraces, and pauldrons were made of a bone like material. Eragon made out twisted designs, that on closer inspection were revealed to be thorny vines entwined with skeletal animals. Her pauldrons were carved in the shape of stag skulls, including the horns which gave her an even fiercer appearance. Her sleek black leather pants and corset were tight, hide stitching visible up the sides. Floating around her were three flaming werelights, all a fel green color.

"Enough education," she bit out. Eragon's hair stood on end at her echoing voice. "We will arrive soon and I have much to ask our guest." She removed her gauntlet, revealing her sharp matte black claw-like nails. She lunged forward with unnatural speed, her palm coming flat against his forehead, and he cried out in pain as a mental probe, colder than ice, began to dig its way in. He immediately pushed back with such force he knew she was surprised. Her visage tightened and her eyes seemed to glow. "Submit," she whispered and began her attack anew.

* * *

An hour later the Night Queen was exasperated. Eragon felt somewhat vindicated as sweat poured down his back. Angela was absolutely beyond skilled in other things besides potion making and fortune telling. One of them happened to be fighting with her mind. She was a master mental combat tactician. Eragon had spent hours fighting her mind, Murtagh's, Saphira's, and even Solembum at times. _**'I may not be able to control my fear, but I can ensure my mind is guarded,'**_ he thought viciously as he took one of her mental tendrils and curled it in on itself.

Huulthraem observed with both exasperation, interest, and no small amount of amusement. _**'The child is strong, yet you won't submit.'**_ His liege lord flicked his mind away and he grumbled, laying his head on his paws, eyes flickering back and forth, as he watched the struggle. During a lull he finally found his chance. He sprang up and roared, launching his own mental wave, ' _ **enough!'**_ They both blanched. Eragon looked at him while the queen merely stared at Eragon with anger.

' _ **The child is strong in his own mind. You have to meet with the council as soon as you return. You cannot keep them waiting. If you cause yourself harm by doing this, causing a delay, you will be risking your rule. Think, Your Majesty, think! You may be young in the surface race years, but you have always been wise. Do not abandon wisdom now!'**_ The elf woman was ready to lash out but, as if water had washed over a shore, her face iced over. She became blank. Her eyes closed and she breathed a few times before opening them and walking to the bow. Huulthraem followed her. Eragon took this time to breathe heavily and calm his mind. The mental combat was trying and his anxiety was spiking.

He continued to focus on Angela's lessons, as a distraction and as a method to help him perform, but he was weakening. Any more prolonged combat and he'd be forced to give up. Just as he prepared to focus on a singular memory of flying with Saphira in the southern most reaches of the northern Spine, a large nose nudged against his arm.

He opened his eyes and Huulthraem stared back. _**'She will stop…for now.'**_ He then turned and went through the open cabin doors. _**'We are almost at Neth'Anyar, rest now Rider. I fear you will need even greater strength than already demonstrated.'**_ Eragon was dismayed at the statement, but took the weresabre's advice and retreated deep within his mind, allowing his fear and memories to wash over him. One by one he began reciting a small mantra to himself.

' _ **I am fearful, but I will overcome. I am fearful, but I will overcome'**_

* * *

Eragon awoke as two hands pulled him up, a blindfold going around his eyes. He felt the presence of Huulthraem in his mind. _**'Just do as they command. Do not attempt to struggle.'**_ With that Eragon went lax, letting the two pair of hands guide him to what must've been a gangway and off the boat. His feet met pebbles and he listened around as the sound echoed off cavernous walls.

* * *

Eragon had been spelled asleep. He had recognized the word, but knew that attempting to fight it would do more harm than good. Besides, he could use the rest. Before long he was awakened. He was in an oval cage being carried by two guards. The only visible parts of them were the snow white skin on their upper arms, their fingers which ended in claw like nails, and the skin around their purple eyes. They were completely ensconced in gray hide wrappings and dark purple cloaks.

An elf woman, shrouded by a black cowl, pulled away from his cage. Eragon imagined she was the one who woke him. He was no longer bound by the black rope, but by hard stone shackles. He wondered how they were made for they seemed unnatural, almost as if poured into shapes. He closed his eyes and attempted to sense the world around him. Small green crystals glowed around him, four set into the roof of his cage, blocking him. His face set in a scowl.

Then he noticed the cage wasn't made from wood, stone, or metal, but from…brambles. Thick vines, a dull muddy brown-gray, with thorns the sizes of his fingers were netted around him. He looked about. Besides his two guards and the cowled woman, at least a dozen more accompanied them. Six bore glaives, blades as black as night, and all of them bore what seemed to be crossbows. The Night Queen walked ahead with languid grace, Huulthraem next to her. Four elves, marching from each corner about her, were clearly her royal guard given their raiment.

High walls of stone advanced on either side of him, so high he couldn't see the top. The only light surrounding them were torches of purple flames and the Night Queens three fel green werelights. Just as Eragon thought he should slumber some more they began marching up hill. He realized they were climbing stairs. Sure enough they came to a great trapezoidal shaped door, a massive ceramic gate, easily fifty feet tall, opening as they approached. They marched, the gates closing the moment the last of the procession was through. A plane of stone with stalagmite clusters here and there expanded before them. They were following a well-worn road, he realized, of greenish stone.

They walked to a set of stone crags rising from the floor a few hundred feet in front of them. Another set of ceramic gates, twenty feet high were in the middle of the crags. The gates opened before the queen and upon entering Eragon realized they were in a great courtyard. The natural clusters of stalagmites were now at regular intervals, forming the bases of watchtowers that speared the sky. A wall that seemed to flow from the earth spread along on either side of the crags, a thick net of brambles covering the top. Lavender color fires burned in massive braziers every few feet.

Shrouded soldiers, most wielding glaives and crossbows, immediately dropped to one knee as they passed. Siege weapons with great three bladed disks in slots, ready to be fired, were pointed outward towards the gate. Eragon realized well over a couple hundred defended this wall. They marched along the green road, coming to an archway where what must've been a commander, for his cloak was green unlike the black of his compatriots, bowed and spoke with the Night Queen. After a few moments another ceramic gate opened. The gate was set in between two hexagon shaped towers, lights visible in the arrow slips. As the procession marched forward Huulthraem went to the wayside and sat. He then began to walk again beside the cage. His consciousness reached Eragon as they passed through it and along a short path before passing under a natural arch of stalactites before stopping at the ledge of a cliff. Eragon gasped at the sight before him.

' _ **Welcome, Rider,'**_ said Huulthraem, _**'to the Shadow Elves' capital of Neth'Anyar."**_

* * *

They crossed a bridge with no railing, clearly not of elven make, and under another archway of natural stalactites that had formed over a gate between another set of hexagon shaped towers, but these ones were sharpened and chiseled. Eragon imagined they could be loosened to devastating effect on the enemy below. A massive bramble wall encircled the city. The vines were thicker than ancient oaks he had encountered in the Spine, the thorns larger than Tornac and Snowfire. Seven towers, three on each side at the periphery of the city, of gray stone rose and were cupped with rounded domes. The seventh and final in the center of the city possessed a pinnacle roof of amethyst. They walked down massive steps into the city, for it lay in a carved stone bowl in the earth. Erisdar hung from great curling vines of bramble that sprung from the earth at regular intervals and illuminated the streets. The buildings were tall, the hilt-and-gable roofs getting smaller as they ascended. Walkways of twisted black stone could be seen peeking this way and that in a crisscrossing design. The coloring was all gray and black with the ruddy brown of root wood seen at intervals. He noticed something though and that was the lack of people. He looked at Huulthraem.

' _ **She ordered the streets to the council chamber cleared. The people know we are back, but she must speak with her advisers first before addressing them.'**_

The closer they got to the city center he noticed the make of building changed. Blue and green tinted buildings of rectangular shape appeared, with some seemingly slanted to one side or shorter than they should be. The streets became more difficult for him to navigate with his eyes.

' _ **The Asdhur took pride in their mathematical abilities and as such their settlements reflect that. They were lovers of geometric shapes. This particular cul'gata was in the shape of a six pointed star, hence the confusing streets, which made sense to them due to their…equations.'**_ By his tone it seemed Huulthraem thought it ridiculous. Eragon agreed. They walked on a main avenue, three ziggurats of a saffron colored stone rising on either side. They came to what was clearly the council chamber. An octagon shaped building of black marble; the ridging of the roof rising to the great tower which Eragon now saw had brambles crawling upwards from its base. Twin doors opened and the procession passed through.

* * *

Eragon was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of a circular chamber at the top of the tower. They had taken a stone lift upwards, panes of lavender glass showing him glimpses of the underground city. He soon realized how small it was. It was larger than Therinsford, the great shambling village south of Carvahall, but it would have easily been dwarfed by Teirm. It was somewhat less than half of the coastal cities size. The six pointed star shape was easily picked out from above with the rest of the city beginning in a clean circle at the outskirts.

He stood slowly, looking down at the floor carved of a strange light blue wood that was almost white. He picked his head up and looked around. Eight seats, four on each side, were filled with people, probably the council members. The seats were sharp and angular, as if made from thin pine trees that bent towards to defend themselves from loggers. One of the seats was empty. He noticed it was rather large, round, and cushioned. He had his answer when Huulthraem trotted past and curled up on it. _**'I should've guessed,'**_ he thought with some amusement.

Just as he decided to inspect the other council members, for it was clear that's what they were, music filled his ears. It was light, but definitely there. The sound of drums, pipes, horns, the sound of two gongs clashing together, and something he couldn't place. The council members stood, bowing, as twin guards stepped forth. Huulthraem translated their words.

' _ **Announcing Her Majesty, The Dark Lady Arya, Ranger-General of the Ghost Striders, Matron of Neth'Anyar, and the Night Queen of the Shadow Elves,'**_ the soldiers banged their glaives against the floor. The Night Queen, Arya, strode in. The music hit a crescendo as she came to her throne. Eragon stared and slowly felt shock hit him like an ox. Her throne was the skull of a dragon. The lower jaw had been split open and each piece lay on either side of the throne with the teeth holding tallow candles. The remaining skull had been refashioned into a seat that was indeed fit for a queen. The wing bones rose behind her, the spaces in between draped with green silk, and she slumped into her chair. The other advisors sat themselves down more gracefully. Arya smirked.

Her echoing voice rang out, "well let's get started then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to hear the music Eragon hears when Arya is introduced go to youtube and type in "Lith My'athar" and go to the first video. At 1:00 is where you should start and at 1:10 is when Arya appears. This is what Eragon hears as she enters the council chamber.
> 
> Next Chapter: Shadow Elves, Weresabres, and Arya Oh My! Well Eragon is in a bit of a pickle. Arya has finally appeared and she is definitely no friend. On top of that she's a queen of her own faction of elves! Now the question is what is going on with the others. Saphira is desperate to find Eragon and Angela feels that soon she will be forced to reveal much more of herself than she'd like, but most of all what will happen with Murtagh...
> 
> End Notes: These will no longer be happening. The encyclopedia and accompanying dictionary will provide all information.


	8. Tracking the Fear (chap 7 pt2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of Chapter 7. It's in two parts because both sets of events are happening simultaneously. Eragon arriving at Neth'Anyar plus the first half of chapter 8 coincide chronologically with what happens below.

Her wing was in intense pain, her whole left side throbbing. _**'That mangy cat will pay for this, elf woman too.'**_ Saphira shifted, growling out in pain. As she continued to slowly stand she sniffed the air. A thick and foul scent, like fetid meat and hot metal, filled her nostrils. She also heard skittering on the rocks on the ledge above. Chittering added to the skittering. "Saphira," whispered a voice. Angela limped towards her. She growled at the herbalist. Angela stopped, but then continued to walk forth slightly.

"Voranarch, many of them, are combing the plateau above. We should leave, fast, but we won't have time." She knelt and withdrew two glass circular vials. Removing the corks she poured a sparkling red powder into a viscous clear liquid. It began to bubble and fizz. "This foul elixir will turn them back, but dragon fire will add to it. Please Saphira, Murtagh and Solembum are out of commission." Saphira observed her, angry at their predicament, and blaming Angela somewhat. However the idea of letting puny spiders devour her was not appealing. The partner-of-her-heart-and-mind Eragon was captured by that quick-like-shadow elf and the mangy cat. Saphira growled low and breathed hot air at Angela, noting her agreement.

Quick as a flash Angela chucked her vial. "As soon as it cracks against the wall, bathe the section in flame." Sure enough they heard the tinkling and Saphira hauled herself up with a mighty heave, leaning heavily on her right side, roared, and unleashed a torrent of flame. She poured into it all of her great rage and sorrow at Eragon's capture. Sure enough a wall of flames, more smoke-like in formation than flame, sprung up. It spread like the noxious chlorine gas. Screeching filled their ears and the smell of charred flesh filled their nostrils. Angela patted her on the chest.

"Quickly, more will come." They wandered over to Murtagh. Angela took Tinkledeath and poked at the rope binding him and Solembum. Thankfully it cut straight through it. Angela began mixing a tonic and poured it down their throats. Both started awake as they came to. Murtagh looked up and around, eyes wide.

Solembum limped off him, crawling to Angela, shaking, and crawled up against her. She tucked him next to her and pet him. Murtagh leapt up. Anger rolled off him in palpable waves. He swung his hand about, "what happened!"

Angela observed him calmly before relaying that the spell was unlike any she had seen, but that the symbol, the six pointed oddly shaped star, was known to her. "It's a seal of the people who built this place and used to manipulate ley lines. It is called the Orichalcos." Murtagh snorted.

"And what exactly is a ley line," his face was set in a scowl and his hands gripped Zar'roc's pommel. Angela waved her hand about.

"Magic flows like a river in certain places, making it easier to tap into it, and these are called ley lines. That symbol the elf used let her tap right into them therefore increasing her spells power. If she hadn't then the wave caused by the second ringing of the bell would've incapacitated her." At that she picked up the bell, making sure to hold its clapper, and secured it in her bandolier.

Saphira watched all of this with annoyance. They should be heading out to find Eragon she thought. Angela looked off down the dark river for a while before approaching Murtagh. As she did so Saphira projected to them. _**'Figure out your differences and fast. We need to make up much ground. That elf has taken Eragon! I can smell his scent mixed in with two I don't know!'**_ Neither responded.

Murtagh looked around wondering where the horses were while a vein in his temple throbbed. Angela tentatively reached out, but he smacked her hand away. She observed him, calmly, before smiling softly. "You're afraid." He looked at her, an argument rising to his lips, but stopped as he looked at her. Her white shawl was dirty and torn, her red jacket too. The bandolier was scuffed and her pants needed to be resewn. Some of her hair was signed and she had a nasty bruise on her right cheek. Yet despite this she looked at him with such kindness he was reminded of the first time she had sat him down and spoken of the past…

* * *

_Eragon and Saphira had been gone for a fortnight. The autumn brought the best chance to hunt large game as herds migrated and bulking for the winter occurred. Murtagh sanded the finished railing of the veranda, going over it with a fine eye. Solembum lay lounging in the fall sun, having caught rodents hiding in leaf piles. Angela came walking up the steps, her arms laden with baskets full of various plants and fungi. She set them down._

" _Plenty of goods for the next few weeks. That greenhouse was a marvelous addition, thank you." She motioned to the long rectangular building. It was an oak frame, but dragon fired panes of glass covered most of it. The erisdar gave light and the constantly boiling cauldrons of water, fed by a water wheel in the pond next to their home, ensured a consistent amount of humid air. Murtagh grunted in acknowledgement. Angela observed him._

_His back muscles were strained, but not just from sanding. His jaw was set, the muscles tight. He was grinding his teeth. She sighed and went to make tea. Returning she pulled at his arm. He looked up and she nodded to the chairs beside the door, a stone table carved with swirling patterns from Saphira licking the hot stone inbetween. "Sit." It was an order not a request._

_Knowing not to argue, but still annoyed, he set the sanding stone down and sat. He stared out in the distance, hoping he'd just have to drink the tea, and then go back to working on the house. However it seemed that Angela had different plans. "So, how are you." She drew out the "are" and smiled toothily. Murtagh gave her a deadpan look. He was in no mood. Angela merely continued on and on about how he seemed upset, always brooding, angry, and how he couldn't bottle it up inside. "…and if these are issues about you and your father you should know that," Angela stopped at the sound of Murtagh's clay mug shattering. She looked at him bewildered._

_His eyes were wide, his whole body tense, and the veins in his neck popped out. He slowly turned and looked at her. Normally she'd feel worried, but she knew that he'd be unable to stop her if she invaded his mind. She looked straight back at him._

" _You know." She cocked her head to the side slightly, smirking._

" _Know that you're Morzan's son? Yes, I've known of you for a rather long time. I even met your father and as fate would have it…your mother."_

* * *

Murtagh shook himself out of his reverie and breathed as Angela had taught him. Eragon had learned this easier than him, but needed it less. Murtagh's fear was massive and all encompassing. Despite their ability to escape and survive he still was full of fear. Even now he feared their ability to survive. How could they take down Galbatorix after so many years of him honing his power? They didn't even know how he increased his power. _**'How can we,'**_ and he was stopped by a powerful swipe across his midsection. Murtagh was knocked flat down by Saphira's massive tail. He got up, rage boiling over. _**'What was that for!?'**_

Saphira got right in his face, teeth gritted, and growled. _**'I could hear your thoughts. You were so uncontrolled they were pouring out like a river. Now is not time to think of the traitor king. We must find Eragon!'**_ Murtagh huffed and turned away. Saphira stalked off.

"Where is Angela," he wondered aloud after a short while. He looked around and found that his three companions had gathered a ways away. They were looking down at the ground. He trotted over to them. "What in the world are yo…" he trailed off and looked down. The liter was in pieces, not irreparable, their goods scattered about, but he felt his heart be pierced by sorrow. Tornac and Snowfire lay dead on top of one another.

* * *

Solembum had laid down, letting out a soft meow directed to the two graves. He had grown to appreciate them, if not enjoy the rare moments of warmth in the summer when he'd lounge on their backs. Saphira had dug two depressions in one swoop. Murtagh had cut of their tail hair, binding it together in a braid. "I want something to remember them by," he had told a stricken Angela.

"The charring indicates they were burned, but their broken necks and limbs speak to the concussive force. The blast's physical force killed them, not the fire, but I doubt they felt a thing." Angela's words were of little comfort. The four of them observed the horses' graves, on the bank of a dark river, only light coming from the few werelights floating above them. After a few minutes of silence, where Murtagh's downturned face hid his wet eyes, Angela piped up.

"We need to be getting on. Solembum, shift, help me assemble the catamaran. Saphira bring all the supplies together. Murtagh," she looked at him and he slowly looked up at her. She smiled sadly, "come now. We must be going. Voranarch will soon be swarming." He nodded, on autopilot.

As they gathered items and prepared to travel a thought occurred to Murtagh, "Angela, how do we know where to go?" She smiled.

"I told you I know these lands. I know the Depth Reaches." She pointed downstream. "The elf's magic left traces for us to follow. I can detect it decently enough. Downstream is where we must go."

Soon enough the catamaran was in the water. The liter had been disassembled and stowed. It added no great weight and the catamaran bobbed lazily. Saphira floated above. The water rippled with the beats of her wings. Solembum sat in human form on her back. Murtagh clambered aboard and he and Angela pushed off from the worn stone slab pier. Angela began to hum a tune, the same tune of the Urgal traveling song she had sung when leaving their home, but this time Murtagh didn't smile as he had before.

* * *

Their pace was slow, Saphira flying closely alongside, all of them frustrated. They had taken to silence, brooding, their anger rolling off in waves. Angela had tried to brighten the mood, but eventually even her cheeriness had worn away. Soon however she took in a deep breath and sighed. Murtagh turned to her as she pointed ahead, "there." He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead.

"I see nothing," he said derisively. She snorted and rolled her eyes.

"If you'd actually look then you would see. There's a post mark. I wonder what it's from or who made it." He didn't respond and merely hardened his expression and picked up a poll to pull them closer to shore. As they came closer an entrance to a cave became visible. Angela cast a rope around a three sided triangular rock, clearly the post mark she had seen, that stuck straight up from the water, five other identical marks an equal distance from it. They jumped ashore.

"You, Solembum, and I can go." Saphira grumbled, but she knew she wouldn't fit through the small opening that lay a few feet from the shore. She set the things she carried down and looked on either side of her. The rocks would keep her hidden well enough. Murtagh picked up the archaic shield and kept a firm grasp on his hand-and-a-half sword. He elected to leave Zar'roc behind.

Angela tightened her bandolier and then directed them through the opening. They descended down a steep tunnel into the earth. Angela seemed wary, but relaxed. Murtagh was questioning the judgement of this by each passing minute. Soon they came to a gate of cast iron bars. Angela held up a hand. "Stop," she ordered. Her voice had taken on a tone of wariness. She unsheathed Tinkledeath and her poniard, eyes darting about narrowly, before sucking in a breath. "No," and rushed forward.

"Angela, wait, stop," cried out Murtagh as she dropped in front of a corpse. The body had long decayed, but it was covered in a mound of webbing. Murtagh's hair stood on end. He conjured a red werelight and looked about as disgust rose inside of him. The whole entryway was covered in thick webbing, evidence of a great battle clear as a mid-spring day. Angela kept muttering protestations and bewilderments. "Angela, we must leave, come on." Murtagh tugged at her. Solembum pawed at her billowing black pants.

' _ **Angela…we must go now. Great danger lies here.'**_ She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, before launching herself upward.

"We must put distance between ourselves and here before," she was cut off by a great roar. They all rushed out. Saphira was in trouble. As they reached the entrance they saw what was wrong. Saphira's wings were pin pricked by arrows yet she shielded the catamaran and their belongings. The three of them looked past her and gasped, Solembum hissing, as the opposite shore was alight with torches. Some twenty odd Urgals with black bows launched another wave of arrows.

"Murtagh! Shoot them from here. I'll handle this on the other side." Angela withdrew a box from the catamaran, her huthvir, and quickly assembled it as he picked up his bow and launched arrow after arrow. The Urgals took shelter behind huge walls of sharpened logs with cured hides covering the fronts. "Mantlets, so only fire when you can see them and are sure of a hit," the herbalist yelled at Murtagh as he fired off another round. Two urgals fell to his bow. She jumped onto Saphira who took off with a mighty heave.

Within a few moments she landed and blasted out a torrent of fire as Angela spun to the ground and began lashing out. Her blades darted this way and that like riled hornets. Within moments the urgals had all fallen either to flame, blade, or arrow. As Angela shoved one end with particular viciousness into the throat of one ball-headed club wielding warrior she nodded. "And that's that," she spat out.

* * *

They hauled their things to the other shore, steering the catamaran across the short way, and searched their fallen foes. Ball-headed warclubs, pikes that were human in make, the mantlets, and other such items gave them few clues. However they came across one urgal who was clearly a kull, his throat slashed wide open. Angela inspected the too small breastplate on his chest and tapped at it. She waved Murtagh over and pointed. "Look at the design," and as he did his eyes widened. Galbatorix's flame sigil was drawn crudely right on the breastplate.

They buried the urgals, burning their goods using the fierce heat from Saphira's flames, and regrouped around the burning pile of items. Murtagh turned away from the acrid smoke and bit into a piece of venison jerky. "What do you think is going on," he wondered aloud to Angela. She let out a sound of wonderment, clearly as confused as he was, before spouting her thoughts.

' _ **It seems to me the urgals are in league with Galbatorix still, after the three years.'**_ Saphira's voice was relatively calm, but her voice gave way to emotions of anxiousness. She wished to be on the way. However Angela shook her head no.

"I doubt they'd be in league and when I looked at them I used my mind to touch theirs. They were shielded, but from afar. The Urgals acted like they were on autopilot in a way. They merely went through the motions. They lacked free will. They were merely meat puppets sent to do their masters will." Murtagh rubbed his chin.

"Voranarch," he queried and Angela cocked her head before slowly shaking it no. He frowned.

"The Voranarch," she said, "are not adverse to such tactics, but their influence would be obvious. No, this was something even more sinister than those foul creatures. I fear that their minds were ensnared by a being far more powerful than we know." She pulled out her pipe and stuffed it with cardus weed before striking a piece of flint to it. "I fear that Saphira's point about Galbatorix is still true, but if it is that means that he knows now of these underground lands and if he does then…" She stood and nodded.

"Care about telling me what you plan," asked Murtagh derisively. She motioned into the darkness.

"The magic can still be detected. We should follow it where the trail is strong. I know that down this way we're probable to come across a place I've heard of if only in legend. A place where the ground grows moist, like the field where we fled the chlorine gas, and great mushrooms grow taller than the eye can see. It's known in the common tongue as Zen-Spore. The beings who long ago ruled here called it Sancya'u Pok which roughly translated to a peaceful fungus lake." Angela said all of this in a conversational tone but her eyes kept themselves on Murtagh's hand which gripped his sword so tight the leather could be heard to shift.

Before he could say anything Saphira smacked her tail on the ground. _**'Enough of this. We either leave together now or I follow the trail alone.'**_

* * *

' _ **Stupid humans. Always causing troubles. And that mangy beast! He will learn the consequences of striking at me.'**_ Saphira glided over the river bank, darting back and forth as the catamaran made its way down. Three days had gone by, three! _**'And no sign of Eragon,'**_ thought Saphira as she felt her heart sink again. She snapped at the air after a moment, remembering her own words to her frightened companion. _**'I will not despair. I will find the Little One and pin him to me. Always he goes getting in trouble.'**_ She looked down as she swung over again. Murtagh had a hollowed look on his face. _**'And that one…that one I must now keep an eye on too. Angela with tricks and now he with fear.'**_

Saphira sighed as she thought of the words Angela had said to Murtagh that day…

* * *

" _Again," ordered Angela as Murtagh pulled back into himself. He was coated in sweat and his back was strained as if he exerted under a great beam of stone. He grit his teeth as he stared up at the herbalist. She stared at him with a blank expression. "Again, Murtagh," she said as she fanned herself with a canvas fan._

" _I can't," he growled out._

" _You can. Let down the iron bars around your mind." Saphira sat on her hind legs, paws up against her like a dog as she cocked her head to the side. It seemed Murtagh was attempting the mental exercises that Eragon did weekly. He wasn't doing well._

" _I can't," he growled again. Angela observed him neutrally before standing. She turned and walked to the precipice of the cliff they practiced on. Murtagh took deep breaths, one after the other._

" _Saphira," said Angela with her mind, "I must discuss something personal with Murtagh. His fear is grounded in something intrinsic to his being. He should be able to discuss it without fear of others opinions."…_

* * *

Saphira wondered to herself, _**'If Murtagh has still not mastered this fear of his…will he be turned from friend and ally to an enemy, to a foe.'**_

Murtagh reached over the side of the boat to swish his fingertips in the water. Before he did so Solembum pawed at his wrist. _**'Many creatures lurk in these waters, most of them not friendly.'**_ Murtagh immediately pulled his hand back. He looked up as Angela whittled away at a wooden block. The shape hadn't given way to an obvious form yet.

' _ **She whittles away at wood a lot.'**_ Her knife moved quickly with deft movements and swift strokes. The days had been hard on them. They stopped periodically, allowing her to sense the earth.

"I may not be able to reach for magic, but I sure can sense it" she had told him when he snippily asked if she knew where they were going or how far they had to travel still. Murtagh, chastened, hadn't responded. On the fifth day of traveling down the river Angela pointed at a murky light in the distance. "Saphira," she said in a low voice, "fly high and report back." The azure dragon wordlessly complied, her wings beating in great strokes as she rose above them into the darkness.

"Are we at this mushroom lake you spoke of," asked Murtagh. Angela shook her head no, curls bouncing everywhere and told him.

"It's still a good day and half away if memory serves me well. We could have reached a distant outcropping of spores though." Saphira returned.

' _ **It's an island. There are vents of steam rising from it. I don't smell poison gas, but I can smell fungus.'**_ Angela nodded and she and Murtagh directed the catamaran to increase speed. Soon they stood on a black sand shore, chartreuse lichen spread on top of the rocky outcropping. Water rushed on either side of them. As they moved further inland they encountered thin trees that were only a few feet taller than Murtagh. The blue-white wood was cast in an odd light from the glowing fungus. The leaves were ovaline and a dusky white, almost chalklike. Murtagh ran his fingers over them.

"What are these trees," he asked. Angela smiled softly, the first genuine display of happiness from her in a while.

"These are Nightfoil trees. Yes," she said upon seeing the look on his face, "the very same that create a tea that weakens the barrier between our world and the dream realm. That tea allowed Sphira to reach Eragon" Murtagh continued to inspect the trees and pointed out the thin veins of very light purple he saw. Angela nodded again and reminded him of how the Nightfoil tea was milky lavender.

' _ **We should camp here for the night. The rushing water adds protection.'**_ Solembum's hair stood on end and he sniffed at the air. Murtagh, upon seeing this, peered out into the distance with his eyes narrowed.

"What is it," he wondered aloud. Angela peered out too, climbing up onto Saphira's back as the dragon stared into the distance. Murtagh suddenly felt a chill come over him and a sickly sweet smell came over him. "Rotting flesh," he told the others. Angela nodded as Saphira and Solembum hissed. "You spoke of flesh puppets in the past. You didn't mention the dead." The warrior knocked an arrow to his composite longbow.

"Yes, the Voranarch are skilled at manipulating bodies and that includes dead ones." Solembum growled, like a cat fighting over territory.

' _ **We are being surrounded,'**_ his tail twitched and he got low to the ground. Murtagh watched him with interest, the past few days anger forgotten, as the werecat expressed what was more worry than normal for him. He looked to Angela who shrugged.

"Werecats are particularly sensitive to the undead. They are rarely upset by magic, but when used to warp the natural circle of life…" the herbalist gestured. Suddenly the angry feline yelped and darted away as Saphira reared up and roared. A massive torrent of fire followed. The opposite bank was only a few feet away so soon it was lit with sapphire flames. The three others stepped back as they heard ear splitting cries and watched as twisted and warped shapes began to sizzle in the fire storm.

' _ **Let all who oppose me despair for I am Saphira, Daughter of the Wind and Flame! None shall stand in the way of my quest.'**_ As her mental cry faded away Angela picked at her ears before turning to their angry friend.

"Now…that was a tad dramatic."

* * *

"So they can raise the dead," stated Murtagh as Angela finished the explanation of manipulating the dead. She had looked ill through the whole thing.

"Yes, essentially, but not in the way as human necromancers can which is why it's deadlier when facing their raised soldiers. They move quicker due to the silk threads." He nodded. They stared into the fire as Saphira continued to sniff the air and growl lightly at any noise or scent. Solembum was at the edge of the camp, sniffing the water.

' _ **We will be surrounded again and soon. We can sail, but they're likely to launch attacks from shore if they have bows and spears.'**_ Solembum's words made them even more uneasy. Murtagh looked around. His eyes alighted on the vents.

"What about those," he pointed at the steam coming from the thin cracks. Angela looked at them and shrugged.

"What about them," she asked. He motioned to the fumes.

"We could maybe use them to cover our tracks. Saphira could increase their size with her flames maybe, or her own smoke, and we could leave under the cover of them." Angela shook her head.

"How would she increase their size without kindling? On top of that if she even did do as you suggest they'd figure it out most likely and just follow us down the river."

Murtagh huffed. "At least I'm thinking of something." Saphira looked back and forth at them and rolled her eyes as she came to the conclusion that they wouldn't be able to agree on an escape.

' _ **Angela,'**_ asked the dragon, _**'the Voranarch are following us correct?'**_ The herbalist nodded without looking at her. _**'Then why don't I just fly above and burn them. They may be many, but my fire is greater than them.'**_ Angela again shook her head no.

' _ **The Voranarch would shoot webs and nets up at you. You could only fly so high. They have a greater ability to see by sensing sound which you create plenty of.'**_ She surprised Saphira by answering her directly in her mind as it denied Murtagh and even Solembum her response. Her anger dissipated as she observed her companion. Her face was drawn and her color peaky. Even Angela's curls seemed less bouncy. She sniffed her. Saphira smelled the usual scents she associated with her, but something else was there. It was something she associated with Saphira. It was the scent of fear. ' _ **Always fear, now."**_

They slept restlessly, the chittering of the many legged arachnids becoming clearer as the night went on. "Broodlings, mainly, but the heavy steps are probably larger ones," Angela explained the next morning. Even Saphira decided not to ask and she had learned over three years to learn what her prey was first to determine if it actually was prey.

Just as Murtagh wished to ask for a discussion on how they should get out of their predicament a massive bolt lodged itself into the thin rocky shore. He shouted and leapt back. He drew his sword and pulled up his shield as Angela whirled her huthvir around to her front. Saphira sprang forward, breathing fire on the thick white strand of webbing that stuck to the end of the massive head. Nothing happened to it.

"They're resistant!" Angela spun and began gathering things to put in the catamaran. Solembum began clawing at the strings with Saphira, but quickly became entangled by the threads he cut. A massive crack sounded again as a second bolt lodged itself. Soon enough the creak could be heard of a makeshift bridge being hauled into the air as the bolts and their web strands were used to move it up and over.

Before they could do anything Saphira used her tongue to shape her fire into a massive orb. She launched it and watched with satisfaction as it blasted straight through the bridge. However a sharp buzz filled the air and Angela practically screeched. "They're sending in drones! They fly!" Murtagh's stomach churned at the idea of an eight eyed spider with wings.

Before the buzz could get any louder Saphira bathed the air above them with a sheet of flame. Shapeless carcasses, all alight, came crashing down. Some fell into open vents as others set the Nightfoil trees on fire. Immediately a thick purple smoke sprang up. Angela grabbed Murtagh and ordered Solembum into the catamaran. "Fly, Saphira, fly. Get away from the fumes!" The great azure dragon did as she was told for just as with the chlorine Angela seemed even more worried about gas than creatures.

As they pulled away from shore Murtagh stood on his knees, knocking an arrow, but suddenly found his airways filled with a noxious vapor. He dropped the arrow, falling back, and seized his throat. Angela fit a waterskin to his throat and squeezed ice cold river water down his throat as Solembum pushed their vessels' poles in his naked human form. Soon the unusually strong current that hadn't been there before carried them down stream.

They rushed along for an inordinate amount of time, focusing on just putting as much distance between themselves and the Voranarch as possible. Murtagh recovered from the smoke inhalation slowly, but set about making sure all of their supplies were accounted for. They were lucky they had barely unpacked a thing. Saphira routinely swooped low to keep a good eye on all of them. None of them could tell when day passed into night or night into day. They were fatigued, grime covered, and Angela then gave the worst news possible.

"I have lost the magical track...and we are off course and nowhere near the fungus lake." Saphira roared. She cast out her mind in all directions, firing flame burst after flame burst to illuminate their surroundings as her companions protested and demanded she cease and desist, but there was no consoling her.

' _ **Eragon! Where are you!?'**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: What's Eragon been up to the past few days and will Saphira see him anytime soon? Next we see just how Eragon has been getting on and the city of Neth'Anyar welcomes some guests that arrive with a bang...and a lot of blood.


	9. The Past, Present, and Future

Eragon sighed as he sat out in the courtyard garden of the house of Sri'Hisvran. He had no knowledge as to who she was, or even what she looked like, but Huulthraem routinely came round and had even spent the night. Eragon had been under house arrest for a few days now and he currently saw no end to it. He took his time to meditate, work out, and observe. He had realized that as long as he didn't try to escape he was relatively free to act as he wished.

The council meeting had actually ended up being quite boring. Huulthraem translated for him, but the details were surprisingly mundane until it came time to discuss Eragon. It had been decided he'd remain under house arrest for the time being due to the threat of the Voranarch. They had launched a swarm, a reckless attack with abandon, against the Shadow Elves. Queen Arya was focusing on the current threat and therefore had paused in any designs towards him.

Eragon had been directed to this house, an elegant one floor square compound with a courtyard that had become his haunt. Low platforms of stone held sumptuous pillows and bedding of dusky orange and turquoise in the rooms. Elegant shell shaped lanterns held glowing orbs of white light. He was fed rich food that mainly consisted of fare and fowl from the underground lakes and sea. During one of his periodic visits Huulthraem explained the cuisine, _**'The vast underground lakes, rivers, streams, and seas,'**_ he had nodded at Eragon's incredulous look, _**'yes seas, they give us a vast collection of flora and fauna to harvest.'**_

Huulthraem hadn't explained when Eragon asked about his host's name, the decorations, primarily the colors, or the fact that he hadn't seen her just yet. The dusky orange reminded him of the orange colored ziggurats in the city center.

On the fifth day of his captivity he was picking at the two thick stone bracelets with tiny green shards adorning his wrist to prevent him using magic. He had finally abandoned himself to his melancholy. He missed Saphira. He even missed the others and all of their bickering. He was alone. So in the courtyard he sat in a fine high collared black tunic with sleeves that only went to his biceps, lined with a color one servant called saffron. Form fitting gray hide pants and matching boots with cabochons of amber. Even with the finest raiment and food, he was bitter. He sighed for the umpteenth time that day. _**'I hate this.'**_

' _ **Hence why I have come,'**_ answered the majestic voice he had become used to invading his mind. Huulthraem bound down the small steps leading into the courtyard. He passed one of the pale blue trees, Nightfoil, Eragon had learned, that decorated it and sat next to the rider.

' _ **You miss her,'**_ said the old feline with a kind voice. Eragon looked away and nodded. He did miss Saphira and looked forward to being back with her again soon.

' _ **I'm sorry Her Majesty has done this, which I know I've said before, but it bears repeating.'**_ Eragon shrugged.

' _ **I'm pretty weak. It's not like I could escape.'**_ Huulthraem cuffed him, which he did at least five or six times a day, and growled.

' _ **You are not weak. Angela taught you how to survive, but raw strength is something else entirely. You have it in spades.'**_ Again the old cat mentioned Eragon's erstwhile companion and he finally decided to inquire.

' _ **You've mentioned Angela as if you know her, but it wouldn't surprise me if you did.'**_ Huulthraem gave a booming laugh over the mental link and made a noise in his throat and licked a paw.

' _ **I was wondering when you'd ask. I do, as a matter of fact, know Angela, but not as well as you'd think. I have the privilege of knowing one who knows her quite a bit. Angela is an odd duck, but I imagine that's a result of her parentage.'**_ Before Eragon could ask two guards walked into the courtyard and bowed. They explained something to the weresabre in hushed tones. He nodded, stretched, yawned, and ordered Eragon to come with him. They marched to the central atrium where a floor of jade and malachite tiles depicted a great city rising from the sands. What surprised Eragon though were the black stone trunks currently being unloaded from a cart parked outside. A carriage of sorts, simple but elegant, pulled up, parking behind the cart.

Eragon sucked in a breath as a woman emerged from it. Her skin was pale, as white as the moon. Her hair was in thick ringlets that looked to be made of spun ink, but what were most striking were her eyes. They were milky white. She was blind. However what Eragon couldn't get over was the fact that she possessed six arms, three on each side and was currently walking towards him with all six arms outstretched. She cupped his hands in all six of hers.

"As the dwarves say, Deruundan, Rider Eragon. You as well Huulthraem." The weresabre bowed his head and turned to Eragon, glee evident in his voice as he introduced the woman.

' _ **This, my dear boy, is your hostess. Sri'Hisvran.'**_ The woman smiled toothily, revealing even white teeth. Before Eragon could ask more Huulthraem nudged him inside.

* * *

Eragon was directed into a room he had never been in. The sliding rootwood doors, set with panes of underground sea glass, were open to look into the courtyard Eragon frequented. The gray sand held a variety of large quartz rocks draped with lichen and moss on top of the three Nightfoil trees. _**'A stone garden,'**_ Huulthraem had told him it was called, _**'when the Sundavar Alfakyn first settled here they missed the gardens of the surface world and over time created their own.'**_

The room possessed a table with an octagonal top of a strong black wood inlaid with elegant rose gold scrollwork. He recognized the runes as being the same writing on Val'synra's case. The runes branched out at the tips to give way to a panorama of what looked like twisting rectangular vines that seemed to sway. Around the vines were carvings of different sea animals Eragon had become familiar with due to his meals during captivity. The legs of the table were four large columns of a tangerine coral. Stools of square stone with small rectangular backs and bowled centers sat at each side of the octagonal table with a particularly large one for Huulthraem.

Sri'Hisvran entered with the weresabre at her heels. She needed no help in navigating, even looking at Eragon with her unseeing eyes in such a way that Eragon wondered if she were actually blind.

"Oh I am indeed blind my dear boy." She smiled and a sense of calm seemed to pervade him. Huulthraem harrumphed as he bound into his seat.

' _ **Stop using your mind techniques on the boy, Soothsayer.'**_ He slapped a paw on the table. Sri'Hisvran sat at the head, using her middle arms to rearrange her shawl. Servants came forth and set out the dishes with a flourish before serving drinks and retreating to the wall. Paua shell bowls with handles of brass held albino lobster bisque and salted kelp stew. Plates of carved jade held caramelized scallops, crab cakes with seal milk butter sauce, and mushrooms stuffed with krill. Entire plates of beaten brass in the shape of curled dragons held selections of raw oysters, with spicy underground chili pepper sauce Eragon had found to be quite potent, or seal steaks. Rootwood bowls of sea prune and fish stew rounded out the selections.

Eragon's sea glass goblet was filled with ocean kumquat wine. Before he could ask questions Sri'Hisvran told him to eat and wait for questions later. He couldn't bring himself to deny the strange woman though he wished to know more. He busied himself by gorging himself on bisque and crab cakes, enjoying a stuffed mushroom here and there, while downing goblets of wine and ice water.

'A fine meal, but I always look forward to dessert,' stated Huulthraem as he finished off another seal steak he had dumped butter on.

"What's for dessert," asked Eragon, sensing an in. Huulthraem looked at Sri'Hisvran as she used one arm to bring her napkin to her lips before saying.

"I routinely present dessert that is of my people's cuisine, the Asdhur we were called, and Huulthraem always enjoys the confectionaries we create. Or I if I am being correct as I am the only one left of my kind." Eragon wasn't sure how to react.

 _ **'To be the last of one's kind…'**_ He looked at Huulthraem as he lapped at a saucer of wine and wondered the same.

Soon enough the servants presented the desserts and he saw what the feline had meant. Little cakes, sand colored, cut into a shape Huulthraem had told him was called a parallelogram were drizzled with honey. A clay square container holding a butter like sauce was set down as well. Then, to Eragon's shock, raspberry mead was placed in large mugs carved from horn. Sri'Hisvran smiled. A clear glass jug of a thick russet colored substance more like heavy cream used for baking rounded it out.

"Getting things from the surface world is easier for me." She then gestured for him to try the cakes. Huulthraem was already slathering the dark yellow condiment on a rather large one baked just for him. Eragon smiled and nibbled one, immediately enjoying the taste.

"What is this,' he asked his hostess.

"Tis a cake made from cashew flour, a small amount of sugar and saffron, dried grapes, clarified butter, and orange peel garnishing. I call them surface cakes now." She giggled as Huulthraem scowled at her. "Huulthraem hates that name, but none of the ingredients are available in the Depth Reaches."

Eragon continued to enjoy his dessert, but became increasingly frustrated at the lack of conversation. In particular he wanted to know more about the elven queen, the Shadow Elves, and just what exactly they wanted him for. He jerked as two ice cold hands were placed on his forearm. He turned and looked at Sri'Hisvran. She smiled.

"Listen to me, Eragon, I understand that you are angered, and I can't promise to tell you all for even I don't have all of the answers, but come to the garden once we are done here and I promise to help you in the way that I know best." She then turned back to her dessert and spoke no more. Eragon was overcome with the feeling that he shouldn't inquire as to more. He finished his dessert in silence and in deep thought.

Sri'Hisvran had stood with a flourish, putting a hand out for Eragon to take. She brought him to the courtyard and produced a small obsidian dagger from within the folds of her dress. He tensed, but she merely pricked one of her many fingers, flipping the blade around with expert skill. She flicked her blood onto the sand and Eragon watched with fascination as the ground began to bubble like boiling water. A patch of ivory tiles with a design of a ten petal flower in the shape of a cross appeared. "Come," she ordered smiling.

She took him to the center of the cross and ordered him to sit. He crossed his legs and sat. "And we won't be needing those," she said with her back turned and waved her hand. Eragon's jaw dropped as the shackles crumbled into dust.

' _ **She did magic without using the ancient language!'**_ Immediately he heard the chuff of the old weresabre as he came to lounge on the inner veranda.

' _ **There are plenty of other ways of doing magic you know,'**_ Huulthraem stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Everyone here save for Huulthraem, our guest, and I no longer exist," bellowed the six-armed woman. Immediately the guards pulled their hoods over their heads and covered their faces in masks. The servant's similarly cowled themselves so that only a thin black veil remained where their eyes were mere pinpricks. She then turned to Eragon. She held a celadon porcelain mug in the shape of an owl. It was the same shape of the mugs Angela used.

As she walked towards him, one of Sri'Hisvran's many arms plucked leaves from a Nightfoil tree and dropped them in a mug. She sat cross legged across from him.

"I am indeed blind Eragon, but I can see in other ways. I am the last of my kind, but I am not without note for other reasons. I was once called The Soothsayer and within this mug is the condensed fumes of the vents I used to assist me in seeing. Also there is Nightfoil which I have learned from Huulthraem you are familiar with, but most of all there is my blood." He blanched and she held up a hand. "This potent mixture will do for you what no other can. It will explain."

Eragon merely stared at her. She was grim faced, but suddenly the same sense of calm as before pervaded him and he felt compelled to drink the potion. "What will it explain to me," he asked in a hoarse whisper. It was at his question that the so-called Soothsayer smiled.

"What was, what is, and what may yet come to be." She picked up his hand, placed the mug in it, and pushed it upwards to his lips. He drank the scalding brew tasting honey, blood, the earth, and a salty sweet taste he hadn't known before…

* * *

_Eragon was free falling. Through shadows and then suddenly the darkness split with a thousand flames and he fell through a colored realm of bright pin pricks. Orbs of light swirling in great clouds of color. He seemed to be rushing towards a sphere of color. Greens, browns, reds, white, and a great deal of blues hurtled towards him, yet he didn't feel afraid._

' _ **The world!'**_ _He couldn't believe it. The world was round, like a multicolored marble, and he flew over mountains and fields, whole rivers and forests rushing past, but he soon came upon a dark scene. He alighted upon a great square pillar and gasped as he beheld the scene before him_

_Four great streams of lava poured from a massive ziggurat crafted of trapezoids, one on top of the other. It poured from openings carved in screaming maws of some wicked looking skull. A skull he realized wasn't unlike the erisdar of the Shadow Elves. A great avenue of stone ran directly from the ziggurat, pillars rising on either side of it just like the one he stood on._ _**'A city…'** _ _he thought as he beheld one of the most terrifying yet magnificent creations before him. Wicked buildings with barbs and grotesque features rose from the ground. Great forges could be seen spewing smoke into the sky and cackling rooftops of crystal blazed with a fierce light. Despite the beauty the city was clearly a place of malevolence._

' _ **What is this place,'**_ _he thought as he looked about. The sharp crack of a whip met his ears and he looked below at the avenue. "No!"_

_A dragon in chains was being whipped by a cruel taskmaster as it crawled up the avenue, dragging a massive timber bed which held a large black stone. The taskmaster, covered in black cloth and mail, whipped it again. The dragon groaned. The taskmaster seemed unsatisfied and yelled out in a guttural voice, speaking a harsh language Eragon couldn't place. Suddenly a regiment of slaves ran forth in their sack cloth garments and chains. Eragon's eyes became even wider as he beheld them._

" _Asdhur," he whispered to himself. Indeed the pale beings, some sickly thin, were six armed and many had inky black hair. The taskmaster was joined by guards and they all began whipping the dragon and slaves as they attempted to help the dragon with its load._

" _Unsightly isn't it," said a familiar voice beside Eragon. He jerked around and beheld Sri'Hisvran, this time in a dress with a saffron heart shaped top and an arm and neck ornament of bronze with a flared collar._

" _What is this place, where have you taken me," demanded the young rider._

" _What you see before you, young Eragon, is the world at its start many eons ago." She waved her three left arms out before her. "Welcome to Alagaesia." Eragon merely stared at her._

" _It can't be," he said with finality and quite a bit of fierceness. Sri'Hisvran looked at him, not unkindly, and spoke._

" _What you see is now long gone, though I fear it may be so again. Yes, what you see is the Asdhur and the Proto-Drakes enslaved by the Ra'zac."_

" _What in…Proto-Drakes…Ra'zac enslaved…" He looked down and within seconds a horrific feeling gripped him. The hunched figures, the hiss like sounds, the complete coverings…it was the Ra'zac. He looked skywards as screeches filled his ears. He let out a cry of shock and terror as he beheld sickly winged creatures, muddy brown and gray with wicked beaks, barbed purple tongues, and eyes of pure midnight. They were flying with abandon over the city._

" _The Lethrblaka as they are named in the ancient language, the Ra'zac's ultimate form." Sri'Hisvran gestured to the slaves. "The Proto-Drago was what developed into the majestic beings we know as Dragons today. Look close and you will see the difference." He stared, the feelings of horror giving way to feelings of despair._

_Indeed the Asdhur woman was correct for the Proto-Drake possessed two hind legs and merely small clawed arms that were useless upfront. Its neck was long and serpentine with spikes that were more quill-like projections than anything. Its head was short and bulbous with a beak like snout, but as it roared he noticed the razor teeth and felt they weren't unlike Saphira's. It flapped its bat like wings and continued to pull, the Asdhur helping it along._

" _How did the Ra'zac do this," Eragon demanded, stomping his foot and turning to Sri'Hisvran. "I was under the impression your people were powerful!" She smiled sadly at the rider with pursed lips._

" _Even great civilizations must rise from something youngling, but if you must know…" She waved her hands and they flew as if scraps of parchment in the wind. She then began to tell him a story._

" _Long ago a band of creatures with similar bloodlines, that is they were of some group of species, rose to create a wicked empire across the world. The Ra'zac were merely one." They shifted to the right and flew out towards a sea he realized. She gestured below as a mighty serpent rose from the depths, consuming a great deal of fish in one go, as Eragon flailed his arms. "Do not worry, you are merely observing what I know.'_

_They flew over a mountain range of snow capped peaks and wide valleys. "These species rose and enslaved many races. The Ra'zac, The Voranarch," she waved her hand as they came to a great desert. A domed city, the same one from the atrium tiles Eragon realized, rose from the sands of a massive desert. He felt his blood run cold as he beheld a myriad of wicked spider like beings, some almost human-esque, as they went about spinning webs, casting spells, and in some cases cocooning slaves alive. "And many others. They were the servants of ancient beings, dark and terrible, who served only their appetites."_

" _Appetites," asked Eragon as they approached the edge of the desert and came upon a great plain._

" _For blood, terror, souls, despair. The malevolence and sheer might of these beings was so great that the world was filled with nothing but fear." They left the plains and it gave way to a temple city where at the center Ashdur slaves were being sacrificed upon an altar. It was there that Eragon beheld it. He couldn't bear to take his eyes away as he beheld the creature in all of its horrific glory._

_A large circular gaping mouth filled with needle sharp fangs and a barbed tongue filled the creatures face. Multiple eyes, sickly yellow, looked upon the altar. Its head gave way to tendril like hair. Protrusions of black bone barbs followed down the blubbering mass of its body that was supported by a mess of tentacles. A row of arms on each side held chalices that caught the victim's blood. It's barbed tongue immediately began to lap up the captured blood._

" _That is merely a minor one. They are far more fearsome the older they become. These beings, these Old Ones, enslaved the world so that they may feed on the emotions they brought about. Their servants were fed in return with great abilities and wicked knowledge. Power. Might is right. You understand." Sri'Hisvran took Eragon's arm._

" _Now for what is," she whispered and Eragon felt as if a hook attached to his navel and whipped him away. They were launched through another dizzying array of colors and landed in the Shadow Elf throne room. The Night Queen Arya was conferring with her advisors and generals, looking grim. "The Queen seeks her own end, of which you are a part of, but she has come to care for these people…in her own way," said the Soothsayer with a smirk. She stepped back and again they launched through time and space._

_Eragon and she rounded a bend and he soon realized where they were. "We're headed towards Carvahall!" His companion merely nodded. Eragon's smile grew as he knew they were about to come upon his home. As they came over the hill he cried out in anguish._

_Black husks were all that remained of many buildings, some only piles of ash and soot. Wolves wandered through the wreckage. Great pines and oaks with sharpened branches were blasted apart on a makeshift perimeter with bloody stakes in a massive trench. They alighted on a hill and again Eragon felt a stab. The remains of Horst's magnificent home surrounded him._

" _WHAT HAPPENED HERE!?"_

" _I'm afraid I don't know the details, but this, your home village, is gone. This is its current state. You didn't think Galbatorix would ignore your home for long did you?" Eragon dropped to his knees, crying out, as he imagined the death of all he had known for so many years._

_Sri'Hisvran put a hand on his shoulder. "I can't show you a great deal in the present without risking exposure. So come, I must still show you a few other things before the future." With that they were ripped away again, despite Eragon's protests._

_They next landed in a field of blood soaked grass. Around him were horses and men, broken banners, arrows everywhere. "The Varden continue their fight then." Eragon wiped the tears from his eyes and looked about. "The Varden will need your help sooner rather than later." He nodded dumbly as he observed the carnage._

" _Why show me this," he asked thickly._

" _To show you what the world is like in your absence. So much carnage and devastation. You are sorely needed youngling. You aren't weak. You are strong. You can help end all of this," and the seer waved her arm around at the field. She grabbed him again. "The visions quicken each time. Prepare yourself!"_

_Eragon beheld a series of visions and this time emotions and feelings rushed through him._

_His head thrown back, cheeks flushed, and feelings of ecstasy flowed through him…_

_A great fleet of ships of many designs and banners headed towards the horizon, a feeling of pride, but also a sense of foreboding…_

_A beautiful keep on a field that looked so familiar, sounds of a hammer ringing out in a smithy, the smell of the harvest in the air and a feeling of contentment…_

_A field, littered with blood and gore, numerous twisted corpses, and a figure in black howling mad with laughter and a feeling of complete and utter despair…_

* * *

Eragon felt his consciousness whip back into his body. He steadied himself with his hand and looked up at Sri'Hisvran. "Wha…what was all of that," he stuttered.

"As I told you. It was the past, present, and the future…or the future that may or may not be. Fate is a tempest that relies on actions and their aftermath. Fate is a great forest with many paths through it. You can't walk all roads, but there are plenty of forks." Eragon nodded, his mind whirling. He jumped back as a cold snout press into his neck. He turned and looked at Huulthraem.

' _ **Bed,'**_ the wise beast stated with finality.

* * *

' _ **That was foolish,'**_ Huulthraem snarled. Sri'Hisvran merely sipped from her mug and stared out as the evening tide came in. The great cat curled up next to her, his hair on end as his anger whirled like a maelstrom.

"You think," stated the Asdhur woman after a while, "that the child will succeed. Angela taught him to shift, and blood magic. Now, in his attempt to protect himself and his companions, he has torn himself. He is open to **their** influence now." Her eyes narrowed at the horizon as she saw things only she was capable of.

' _ **If Her Majesty were to discover our actions it would lead t,'**_

"That demonic little cunt won't figure a thing out as long as we don't tell her," Sri'Hisvran snapped. Huulthraem picked his head up and stared at his oldest friend.

' _ **You know what was done to her. She deserves our sympathy.'**_

"Sympathy, yes, but I have no time for petty games of revenge. What would happen if Galbatorix succeeds? What would it mean for Alagaesia? Not to mention the rest of the world and countless worlds after that?"

Huulthraem snapped his massive jaws. _**'We aren't even sure he's after what you think he's after. He could have discovered plenty of dark wonders in the North. The Barrows of Anghelm hold many dark artifacts. Or even the resting place of Jarnunvosk. Let's not even get started on the Grove of the Four Sisters.'**_

' _ **Great machinery digging through rock and ice? Countless soldiers, almost the entirety of his army diverted? Not to mention we have lost contact with so many tribes in the Spine? All accounts had them headed to the Beors and no sign or sound of them since. Forget about the bloody queen and listen to what I am telling you. Things seem to stay the same except for the Mad King and that accursed black beast of his. Huulthraem I am speaking to you with my mind for I am fearful of speaking this out loud. The consequences of uncovering the gate would be the end of us all. Galbatorix's madness and lust for power know no bounds. It's time for the old treaties, to put Eragon on the path Brom started. Angela did right by the old man, but it's time for us to finish what was started.'**_ The six armed woman then emptied her now cold tea on the rocky shore and traipsed back to Neth'Anyar, Huulthraem following behind her subdued.

* * *

Eragon awoke with a shout as multiple hands shook him from his nightmares. A sharp blaring noise could be heard in the distance. He covered his eyes as the white orbs of light sprang into existence. Sri'Hisvran looked down at him. Her hair was pulled back with a thin cord and she wore a nightgown. The sound of boots running on stone and orders being called filled the air.

"What's going on," Eragon asked blearily.

"War," answered the seer. "Come, quickly, get dressed." She waved to a pile of clothing two servants stood silently with. Both of them wore padded leather and thick cloth outfits with daggers belted at their sides. Si'Hisvran left with a twirl of her gown.

Eragon did as he was told, having the feeling it was best for the time being. The servants helped him into padded trousers and knee high boots. Over his form fitting shirt went a thick leather corset with a metal neck piece. Plate backed gloves completed the rather odd raiment. A black cloak was wrapped around his shoulders and pinned with one large piece falling down his right shoulder. Then to his shock he was given a quiver of wickedly barbed arrows, but no bow.

"Go," ordered the servant pointing at the door as they began packing things in his room into large black chests.

Eragon entered the anteroom of the compound. Servants rushed about with things as a group of soldiers assembled outside. He could hear people in the distance rushing about. He walked to the edge of the low wall at the start of the compound's front garden and gasped. Neth'Anyar was alight. Great flameless lanterns almost as large as a full grown war horse had been erected on massive curling root poles. Columns of soldiers marched towards the walls with their spears locked outwards like a porcupine. Soldiers with arbalests and wicked war machines were fitted with bolts and arrows as they circled to the tops of many towers. Eragon grasped as he heard a commander from afar below in the ancient language, "fire!"

A dozen trebuchets launched flaming orbs over the thorn wall into the environs. Eragon spun and turned back to the compound just as Sri'Hisvran re-appeared. He stopped short and did a double take. Her curls whirled around her, let go from the cord and her face was set with a grim look, and she twirled black short swords in each hand while inspecting her green and black flanged armor. A turquoise cape billowed down from her back as she spun them all about. She smirked as she came to notice Eragon.

"Good, it fits. I know the armor is a bit odd. It's bronze and proto-drake leather. From a long ago age, Huulthraem felt it might fit you. Here," she motioned behind her and Eragon couldn't help but smile as Val'synra's case was brought up to him. "You'll need it. Oh and this," she pressed her hand to his chest. Glowing yellow chains sprung about him. His vision flickered and he yelped in shock.

"What was that?" Sri'Hisvran looked grim again.

"This is a blood magic spell, one you will need to learn later, that constructs a shield of sorts. Don't think of it now for we must focus on the task at hand." Huulthraem walked up to them. He wore his own body armor, clearly also clearly forged in a different age given the look of it.

' _ **Come, there's knife work to be doing.'**_

* * *

The docks held a great deal of warships being outfitted with sails and ballistae. They boarded one and Sri'Hisvran went about ordering her contingent of soldiers ready.

' _ **These are corsairs she has trained. They are more loyal to her than anything. You're in luck. It's why she allows them to be in the house with you as our guest. Anyone else would report back to Arya.'**_ Huulthraem hadn't spoken since they left. Neither had Sri'Hisvran.

' _ **So you'll now tell me what's going on,'**_ Eragon wondered. The werecat nodded.

' _ **It seems those eight-legged freaks have dug a new tunnel right to the gates of the environs. Ancient Asdhurian spells kept them from going further, but they overwhelmed the Vanguard. Now they are trying to swarm the bridge. Our goal is to circle back with the fleet and fire upon the rear of their swarm from afar and let the Queen and her forces do the work upfront.'**_

Eragon nodded. He had no plans on trying to escape. He may have, but Sri'Hisvran and Huulthraem had been kind to him. Not to mention he knew he'd just be trekking right into a massive spiders nest, literally. For the time being defending the elven capitol was his best bet at survival. So he set forth rigging the sails.

* * *

"Fire," bellowed The Soothsayer. The bolts of the ballistae and arbalests launched and a horde of spiderlings, drones, and the beetle like "siege-spiders" were set aflame in a green blaze. Eragon hadn't been allowed to use his Chaugaulacis, Val'synra, yet. "That is not a toy and on some level it is a weapon of mass destruction. You will use it, but not yet," Sri'Hisvran had told him sternly. Instead he ran about doing whatever needed to be done. He reset the ballistae, lit the tar, brought more bolts from the bowels of the ship, and other general work.

Huulthraem padded up to him. _**'Sri'Hisvran says to climb the mast. Use the speculum up there and report to me any potential aerial attacks. The swarm has ignored us but the damage we have caused will mean that that won't remain the same for long. Go!'**_ Eragon began climbing as quickly as possible. He looked down from the top of the ship. The elven navy had deployed into the dark waters surrounding Neth'Anyar. When he was first brought to the city he hadn't noticed the fact that it lay on a small stone island in the middle of an underground sea that wasn't far from shore. Now great dromons fired massive blades at the mouth of the bridge while the sleek and wicked carracks like Sri'Hisvran's fired ballistae bolts.

Eragon grabbed the speculum and observed the skies. "Thank the gods for those massive lanterns," he muttered. For the next few minutes he didn't see a thing until, _**'Swarm across the water! Port side! Headed this way!'**_ He heard Huulthraem roar a challenge to the sky and watched as arbalests let go with a twang. A flurry of flaming bolts pierced the air as the eight legged bulbous forms of the drones fell into the sea. Again they fired and again the drones fell before they reached the ship.

' _ **ERAGON, LOOK OUT,'**_ Huulthraem roared. He spun around and ducked. Four drones carried a Voranarch with a human-like torso and four eyes. Its mouth was open, fangs appearing beneath its chelicerae. It was dropped and clinged to the outside of the crow's nest. It chittered and its three fingered claw like arms launched at him, grabbing. He leaned back from it and reached for the dagger given to him. He sliced a finger off and the creature reared back, pulling a saw like sword from its own holster. The mast shook and Eragon glanced down briefly. Huulthraem was clawing upwards and snarling his challenge.

The corsairs continued to fire, but now Sri'Hisvran was dividing her attention, watching as Huulthraem climbed. Eragon deflected blows, three years of Angela's training not going to waste. All of a sudden shouts filled the air as spiders flung themselves from the sea and began to devour the artillery. In that brief moment of distraction his attacker flicked it's saw like sword and sent his dagger flying.

Without so much as a thought Eragon whipped Val'synra from his back and, using the sharp end, sliced it across the spider-man's stomach. The creature chittered and then began to screech. He stared with fascination as a glowing icy blue wound began to ripple and necrosis spread along the creature. Before long only a dead, diseased husk clung to the mast before him. He smirked. _**'Now this is something I can use,'**_ and with that he kicked the necrotic husk from the sailing and fit a barbed arrow and let it fly. He watched as it came alight with sapphire flames on its own accord. A drone fell into the sea and the few around it lit up like the tar on the ballistae. Sri'Hisvran invaded his mind.

' _ **Now you see why it's dangerous. I suppose you can sue it now, since you've discovered it's use.'**_

* * *

Eragon grabbed another set of arrows and began firing again. Sweat dripped down his forehead and his arms burned, but still he brought the bowstring back and fired. Still the swarm kept coming. The elves weren't beleaguered due to their strength, but the prolonged battle was having an effect even on them. Eragon soon emptied his quiver. _**'Enough,'**_ said Sri'Hisvran. _**'Come down.'**_ Eragon didn't argue and launched over the side, jumping from rope to rope, and landing on one knee.

"We have to plug that damn hole they've opened up," the six armed woman pointed at where tons of the Voranarch still burst forth from.

' _ **How,'**_ asked Huulthraem as he ripped off the head of a drone with his teeth.

"The Queen has directed the trebuchets to relocate to the far right of the city where they have better vantage points. We are to attack the skies and waters to ensure nothing gets through to destroy them while they launch rubble to plug the opening so we will,' The Seer cried out in shock as she was cut off by the sudden appearance of a massive spider dropped from above. The monstrous creature released an egg sac from its abdomen that immediately hatched. Tons of milky white spiders sprung out. Eragon knocked two away deftly before launching arrows at the monstrous beast. He groaned as the arrows bounced off her thick carapace.

The deck of the ship began to bulge inward from the spiders immense girth and weight. She kept dropping egg sacs like little bombs and striking out with her front legs. Eragon had picked up an elven blade and slashed away at the spiderlings while Huulthraem and Sri'Hisvran tried to find a way to kill their mother. Then to their shock she began to climb the mast of the carrack, web shooting from her spinnerets.

' _ **SHE'S GOING TO JUMP AND TRY TO PULL THE SHIP UNDER WITH HER THREADS,'**_ roared Huulthraem for all to hear. Just as she reached the top a massive thud filled the air.

 _THUD._ The corsairs looked up. _THUD._ The massive spider stalled, chittering. _THUD._ Eragon and his companions heard a growl that turned into a roar. A dragon's roar.

A massive fireball crashed into the spider, sending her and half the mast spinning into the sea, her threads snapping away. Saphira flew above and roared out a sheet of flame across the sky as thick green and black blood and chunks of flesh rained down on the ship's deck. Eragon immediately began to cry with joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: How the hell did Saphira get there? Are the others with her? Let's see what Angela, Murtagh, Solembum, and Saphira have been up to. Time for the characters to come together again and meet one another and maybe, just maybe, find out a little bit more about The Night Queen's plans for Eragon.


	10. A Wound In His Time

Saphira swung low to the river, the catamaran buzzing along underneath her, propelled by an unnatural wind created by Murtagh. ' _ **Where are you little one,'**_ she roared mentally for what seemed to be the millionth time. She was exhausted, her wings ached, yet in her chest lay an even deeper pain. She could not hear the partner-of-her-heart-and-mind Eragon. She could not sense him. Her scales itched and her soul burned.

' _ **Saphira, I know you burn with want to see Eragon again, but please, the Voranach could sense us any moment, we must be careful,'**_ the herbalist and witch Angela tried to soothe the great drake, but all she got was a flick of a mental tendril and a grumbling. Murtagh adjusted the sails, Solembum draped around his shoulders. His face was set in a grim determination as they sped onward. They had been doing this for days now, speeding along the water, resting on outcroppings or alongside the shore at night. Whenever they took leave the next morning, they usually heard distant grunts and chitters.

"Urgals on one side, eight-legged demons on the other, Angela, we need a breakthrough," he grunted out. She raised an eyebrow at him, but nodded with a grim expression.

' _ **I hate to bring this up, truly, but we could always open...a door.'**_ Angela stared wide-eyed at her companion of many years.

' _ **I'd suggest never suggesting that to me again.'**_ Solembum merely blinked at her, but she could tell this wasn't the end of the conversation. She couldn't help but flash back to the conversation she had had with Solembum, the conversation that sealed their fate...for the time being.

" _You cannot be serious, where's the fun in that!?" Solembum merely flicked his tail as she closed the hatch of one of her casks. Rain lightly pitter-pattered the windows of Angela's home, the sound of the sea a light whoosh in the distance._

" _They will need our help," Angela turned and inspected as the human-form werecat pulled on a gray tunic. "And my guess is that they aren't exactly going to head to the Varden. Murtagh will resist."_

 _Angela scowled,_ ' _ **yes, the forsworn son, literally. I guess I'll need to figure out how to handle that one...eventually.'**_ _She fingered her chin, lost deep in thought._

" _I suppose...training him could be exciting, plus we do know, somewhat, what the north holds...but still...being that close to the entrance is bound to..." She trailed off deep in thought. She heard a tinkle of a bell as Solembum opened the door of her home, revealing a dark expanse of plain on the other side._

" _Well?"_

"Angela!" The witch startled out of her reverie and looked at the swordsman. He scowled. "Any ideas," he ground out. Before she could respond Saphira spoke to them.

' _ **I need rest,'**_ and cut off contact. They angled towards a tiny isle, barely anything more than another outcropping of rock. The great dragon landed with a heavy thud. She swept her tail around and set herself down, a great sigh heaving from deep within her. Her three companions set about making camp, careful to steer clear of the clearly-hurt dragon.

As they ate dried fruits and meats Murtagh kept throwing out ideas that Angela, reluctantly, shot down. Finally Murtagh cursed and kicked at a rock, "gah! What in the blazes is magic good for if we can't use it to track him!? We don't have time to sit here and," he yelped as Angela tackled him in a bone crushing hug. He was surprised by her strength, but even more so by the noises of happiness she was making.

"You steel swinging princess, that's it! That's why he's been sick!" She suddenly became animated, gabbing back and forth about formulas, time, and what sounded like "wound."

A great dragon's roar echoed in their heads and they both groaned, Solembum hissed. ' _ **Explain.'**_ Saphira's tone brooked for no argument. Angela stared and slowly nodded. She prepared three mugs of tea, Solembum shifting to join them. When it was ready, she sat, arranging herself, before informing her companions.

"I taught Eragon the ability to speed up the tiniest bts of us, the network of little sparks that keep us together, so to speak. Visualize it, and shift it, by increasing the friction." Angela rubbed her hands together. "What he did was move so fast, in a single instance, that he slowed time relative to his own body, but inadvertently he must've done something else. He tore open a time wound. Essentially his own subconscious is experiencing the anxiety and fear of what COULD be, and trying to shift through all of the possibilities."

They all stared at her. Angela scowled. "When we fled Tordsed, he wounded himself by attempting something he couldn't for he had not the mastery for it. He attempted to move as I can, in short bursts, by speeding up the minute particles that make up everything in existence. What's happening is that he's still slightly sped up. As time is relative to him now, he's remained open to the timelines, to the things that were, are, and can be. He's poisoning himself with the fear and anxiety that every possible choice he's ever made or will make. He is, quite literally, experiencing the fear of a million possible futures. AH HA!" She hugged Murtagh again.

Solembum stared more.

' _ **I believe, and I'm sure that Murtagh does as well, that we didn't understand a single word that just passed between your lips.'**_ Murtagh nodded. The herbalist sighed and pinched the bridge between her nose.

"Our minds are complex things and not everything is experienced every moment of every day. Eragon opened the barrier between time streams and let it effect the conscious and the unconscious. In his haste, in his fear, he tried to shift reality, but instead shifted time. It created a time wound. That's why he's been suffering."

"While this is all well and good to know, how does it help us find him?" Murtagh crossed his arms, irritated that Angela's tutelage had resulted in, again, another mess. The herbalist smiled.

"Because a time wound is easy to track, it's a blazing beacon if you know what to look for. More noticeable than Saphira on a warm summer's day." Smoke curled upward from Saphira's nostrils.

' _ **Doubtful.'**_ Angela began to draw symbols in the rocky soil. Soon a large ritual circle full of odd runes and intersecting lines surrounded her. She removed her poinard and Cut her hand. Her companions watched with great interest as she let the blood drip down on the ritual circle.

She spoke then in a language none of them recognized. As she did an acrid smell filled the air, like hot metal, or thick blood. "Is this magic," whispered Murtagh to Solembum. The boy-form werecat looked at him and shrugged. Suddenly Angela gasped, her head snapping backwards, her eyes pitch black. She then collapsed.

Murtagh wiped a cloth across the Herbalist's forehead as she slowly came to. She smiled at the concern of the swordsman and patted his cheek as her vision cleared. "All's well, dearie." She slowly sat up. Solembum was in her lap, purring heavily as he saw his friend come to.

' _ **You frightened us there,'**_ Saphira brushed her snout across Angela's head. The herbalist smiled tiredly and took the water Murtagh offered,

"A worthwhile price, considering a trail is laid clear for us now that it's done," she motioned at the pitch black sky above them, fluorescent lichen veins spearing the hood of the great cavern. Saphir cocked her head to the side, slightly bird like.

' _ **Care to explain what path,"**_ she motioned with a claw. Angela looked at her before making a noise in realization.

"Ah, yes, well, here." She pulled out a piece of glass in a golden ring. The glass was purplish and sparkled ever so slightly. She handed it to Murtagh. He took it gingerly and slowly brought it up to his eye. He gasped. He ran over to Saphira.

"Look," and he held it up to her great eye. Though she could see little of it, there was an unmistakable gossamer strand of gold arcing away from them. Saphira slowly grinned, baring her great fangs.

' _ **Well done, Angela, well done.'**_

They followed the trail like a pack of bloodhounds, a renewed sense of vigor filling them. They knew they had a chance now. As they sped down the waterways, Angela and Murtagh cast out mind and, in Murtagh's case, spells. Glyphs of following, finding, locating, filled the air as Murtagh tried to conceal them and find his friend. Angela would occasionally yell out directions to Saphira with her mind, peering through the looking glass.

' _ **STOP,'**_ everyone blanched as Angela's thoughts burst through their heads. Saphira banked hard and swooped overhead.

' _ **What is the meaning of this,'**_ growled Saphira. She was irritated at being stopped when they finally had a way to find her partner. Angela harrumphed and motioned at the face of the cliff wall they were currently passing.

"The trail says to continue through there, and she pointed straight at the rock wall. She handed Murtagh the glass and he looked. He scowled for there it was. The golden threads continued straight through the wall, never stopping. "I wonder…" He looked as the Herbalist trailed off, staring straight at the bare face of the edifice. Murtagh stared too and then looked at Angela, something dawning on him.

"Angela...you don't think…" She nodded, her curls bouncing, a smirk on her face.

"Oh yes I do, Murtagh." She looked upward at Saphira swooping overhead. Murtagh and Solembum watched as the dragon slowly, almost gingerly, dipped her wing towards a section of the cliff wall. They heard a yelp of surprise as Saphira's wing dipped right into the rock. And Angela cheered.

"Tally-ho!' Angela gestured at the rock wall and tapped the side of the catamaran. It rushed forward, Murtagh bracing for an impact but none came. They passed through the illusion, not even feeling it. They found themselves in a well carved passageway, intricate designs covering saffron colored hexagonal pillars, climbing to the top. Chartreuse colored moss clung to the pillars and fell in rolls to the water way below. The travelers were forced to stop as they came upon a metal gate...with green werelights flickering above the spikes. Murtagh immediately unsheathed Zar'roc, Angela matching his movements with her poinard and Albitr.

Saphira alighted on a carved ledge, mirrored on the other side, and her tail twitched like a cat waiting to pounce. Murtagh looked at Angela and she at him. "Armor," they said in unison.

They garbed themselves. Angela whirled her huthvir around her head, making sure it was able to hold up in battle. Solembum at her side. She got confirmation from Murtagh and Saphira before motioning the catamaran forward. As it came to the gates she gave her huthvir to Solembum and unsheathed Tinkledeath. She raised it to chest height and stabbed forward at the gate. Poisonous blue sparks flew from where she struck, causing her to grunt at the magical pushback. Slowly she cut through metal and magic, cutting out a perfect hole for her to push the gate open. She sheathed the translucent blade.

Without a word the companions continued forward, the catamaran gliding through the passageway. As they continued the unmistakable sounds of battle reached their ears...and the chittering of chelicerae. ' _ **Voranach,'**_ hissed Solembum.

They came out of the passage and upon a great sea surrounding a massive mesa, Angela and Murtagh gasped as they beheld a city surrounded by a bramble wall with a great stone bridge reaching across the gap to reach the plateau, though currently the cries of battle filled the air and the smell of blood and fire was thick in the air. A massive port, wicked ships fanned around it, was set at a carved series of ledges right beneath the bridge. They watched in awe as the ships fired ballistae upon the hulking swarm of legs and limbs that were the Voranach.

' _ **We need a plan, especially if Eragon is here.'**_ Saphira hovered just above them. Angela looked through the glass and nodded.

"He's here alright, aboard one of those ships it seems. Murtagh, we need to get closer. Bow range I think." He nodded tersely, slinging his bow and knocking an arrow. They proceeded forward, quickly, wanting to make sure they got to their friend in time. As they got closer, Angela hissed in pain, grabbing her head.

"Angela," asked Murtagh, concerned. She slowly looked up and narrowed her eyes and muttered.

"As if from a dream…" She then roared in fright as a massive, hulking Voranach surged from beneath the waters, overtaking the ship where the golden thread stopped. "Murtagh, that's where Eragon is! He's on the ship." The swordsman swore explosively and urged the catamaran forward. Before he was within rage they heard a massive roar and looked upwards. Saphira hurtled past them, the air thundering beneath her wings, suddenly a massive torrent of fire blasted the creature. Pieces of the Voranach fell through the air and Saphira roared her triumph.

An overwhelming sense of joy filled Eragon. He cast out his mind at once. ' _ **SAPHIRA!'**_ The response was almost instant and overwhelming.

' _ **ERAGON!'**_ Tears sprung to his eyes as his mind melded with hers once more. A rush of emotions, joy and worry being the most pervasive, filled them both. Huulthraem nudged his side, Eragon turned to him. The weresabre smirked, in his own way.

' _ **I'm thrilled that you've been reunited with thine dragon, but there is a battle to win here, Argetlam. Tell your companions to come aboard.'**_ He then reeled back and roared his challenge to the Voranach


	11. An Eight Legged Problem & A Sticky Situation

The companions climbed aboard Sri'Hisvran's personal clipper. Eragon and Murtagh gave each other a hearty embrace, Solembum twining around their legs, his purrs loud over the din of battle. Angela smiled at him.

"I take some pleasure in knowing you're alive thanks to my tutelage." Eragon's bark of laughter was short.

"Well, that is why we spirited away to the northlands isn't it? So I wouldn't actually die during all of this," he gestured at the battles raging around them as spidermen and elf fell alike on the points and barbs of each other's weapons. Saphira's head rushed out of the water, streaming down her spines in great cascades. She bared her teeth, focused entirely on Huulthraem. The ancient weresabre just blinked, more amused than anything.

Murtagh leaped forward with a great bellow, raising his sword, before Eragon seized him. "What're you doing!? He is one of your abductors!"

"And his name is Huulthraem and he's been of great help to me during my time here. He is fierce, yes, but also wise and kind." Eragon spoke in a calm, measured tone, knowing the heat of battle could cloud even the most analytical mind. Murtagh breathed heavily, before slowly lowering his sword, but still keeping it raised at his side.

 _ **'Now that that's settled,'**_ Huulthraem passed them by, ignoring Saphira's increasingly loud growls, and walked straight up to Angela. The herbalist was as white as a sheet, her mouth opened in a small "O". Huulthraem licked her hand. She jerked back, as if stung. _ **'Hello little one. It's been some time. You as well, little paw.'**_ Huulthraem turned to Solembum and licked the side of his face, the werecat wearing an expression as if a parent had just embarrassed their small child.

"Yes, it has been. Though this is hardly the time for family reunions. We do, after all, have a battle to win here." Sri'Hisvran smiled as the assembled group, adjusting her armor as if she were preparing for a leisurely stroll. Her unseeing eyes seemed to be unnaturally focused on Angela.

Sri'Hisvran slowly began to smile wider at the dumbstruck herbalist, but she said nothing other than, "Angela." Everyone watched as the herbalist seemed to be almost bursting at the seams, getting whiter and whiter as if about to pass out. Yet she didn't do anything except make an odd gurgling sound. The Asdhur woman turned to Solembum, and leaned down to pet him. "It is good to see you again dear."

 _ **'Would someone explain what exactly is going on here!?'**_ All of the, except for Sri'Hisvran winced as Saphira's voice roared through their heads. Before any of them could respond, the Night Elf Queen, Arya, catapulted onto the ship. Saphira's mouth opened, prepared to bathe the woman in flames. She stopped as the vibrant green eyes of the shadow elves queen fell on her.

"Try it." The challenge was bold, and disturbing. The Queen clearly felt little for Saphira's abilities. Eragon could feel her wounded pride from across their bond. Arya's armor was caked with gore and her veridian cloak was torn in several places. Before the situation could descend into madness any further, Huulthraem decided to step in.

 _ **'As touching as a family reunion is, or as amusing as it would be to see our queen face off against a dragon, we, need I remind us all again, have a battle to win here? My Queen, your charge?'**_ Arya closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then opened them, and began relaying orders.

"The benders have created an opening behind enemy lines, The Seer's forces will lead the vanguard, Huulthraem and you fools to follow. Eragon," she barked, "you will ride Saphira up towards the caverns peak, so we may conceal you in shadow. You will carry a flash bomb with you. Once the others are in place in the tunnels, you will drop and speed away. The flash bomb will release sound and light that will daze the Voranach. The vanguard will then attack and then with any luck the confusion will allow my forces to push back against a confused front as they will be under attack from the back."

Eragon hugged Saphira tightly as they ascended into the pitch black that hovered above them. Eragon shifted the hood he wore. Made of simple black leather and wool, the full face covering had two green crystals placed over where the eyes would be. The spells set into them, along with the natural phosphorescent light they gave off, the crystals allowed him to see, with uncanny accuracy, the world around him.

 _ **'Little one, I am glad to be back with you as well...but please, lest you wish to choke me, please lighten your grip.'**_ Eragon apologized and patted the side of her neck as he loosened his grip.

 _ **'Just glad to be back with you, in one piece.'**_ Saphira hummed, then dove sharply to the left, spinning around to place herself about the bridge to Neth'Anyar, laboring as she gripped the strap of the large cask. Inside of it were various powders and jellies that, when the force of the drop broke them, would create a great rush of light and heat, a concussive blast that really would only stun the invading Voranarch, but would let the armies push back against a dazed and confused enemy.

 ** _'I must say, you seem different. As if you understand yourself a little more than when we departed the north. What exactly did you discover while in this forsaken place?'_** Eragon paused, not entirely sure if he could continue hating this particular city. Before he could respond, Huulthraem contacted him.

 _ **'Get in position now, Argetlam, we are approaching the opening of the tunnel.'**_ Huulthraem sent him the image of the group, Angela looking out the side of her eyes at the blind seer, while Sri'Hisvran smiled enigmatically and looked as if she were enjoying a garden party and not a pitched battle.

 _ **'Ready?'**_ Saphira paused in the air, her great wings keeping them in place. Her breathing was labored, but she held steady and resolute.

 _ **'I am above the bridge. That wretch has gathered her forces.'**_ Eragon laughed at her criticism of the queen, but blanched when the roar of her voice entered his head.

_**'NOW!'** _

Eragon relayed the command and Saphira dove, a mighty bellow coming from her toothy maw. Eragon could see through the crystal eyes of his mask that the spider army, in all their various forms, looked up. Saphira pulled out of her dive and let the flash bomb fly. She closed her eyes as commanded and veered sharply. Eragon felt the concussive boom of the explosion, glad the hood protected his ears as it reverberated around the cavern. Saphira groaned and grumbled as her sensitive hearing was disturbed by the blast.

_**'You okay!?'** _

_**'I'll be fine, we're far enough up and not over the water, so the sound is not reverberating as much, but I'll be dizzy, for sure. Hmmph! Who heard of such a thing? A dizzy dragon, I ask you!?'**_ Eragon laughed at her comment, but yelped as she dove suddenly, coming down to bathe the side of the invaders army in flame, as they'd been told.

Eragon fired off arrow after arrow from Val'synra, the ensorcelled points leading to many a screeching spider as they were consumed by the bow's powers. The hole had opened where the Night Queen's forces had moved the earth, and Sri'Hisvran and her forces were now hacking away at the spiders. All manner of them fell in the onslaught. As they continued flying about, Eragon caught glances of Murtagh, his expert swordsmanship felling all manner of creature, and Solembum, bouncing around like a jumping bug, the gore of so many eyes caking his fangs and claws.

_**'Well that's amusing.'** _

_**'What could possibly be amusing right now, Eragon? Hmm?'**_ Saphira landed, her body crushing multiple spiders the size of small dogs and she side swiped a siege spider. She snarled as drones dove at her, but bathed them in flames, their screeches filling the air. Eragon swung down, rolled, and then got up on one knee and fired arrow after arrow. He pointed over yonder.

 _ **'Look at them.'**_ Saphira glanced briefly before laughing, while crunching an armored upright soldier in her jaws. It screeched, as they all seemed to do when they died, and it just irritated the dragon more.

Sri'Hisvran calmly stood in the middle of the battle, her multiple hands moving about her as if they had minds of their own. She smiled, even occasionally sipping from a little clay bottle, but none of the creatures seemed to be able to break past her. Around her Angela wielded her huthvir like a dervish, the blind seer following along with the Herbalist's movements, convincing Eragon she wasn't as blind as she claimed to be. As if she could sense him, the seer looked at him and winked, her two front hands darting up and slicing open the neck of a charging spider. Eragon laughed, but leaned back as a great claw came flying at him. He sliced the creature's side open with his bow, it's taint spreading and consuming it.

 _ **'Pay attention please, I'd really rather not lose you after finding you again.'**_ While Saphira's words were in jest, he knew the emotion behind them was real. Before he could respond she added on, _**'plus who else is going to help me clean my teeth after this. I've eaten many things in my life, but these eight legged freaks taste quite awful.'**_ As if to prove her point she spit out her recent opponent and knocked down a group of pikemen with wickedly barbed spears before bathing them in flame.

Eragon laughed and reached for another arrow, but realized he was out. He switched to using his martial skills, wielding Val'synra like a stringed sword of sorts. Great horns sounded from over by the bridge as the Voranarch were forced off and back, the Night Elf army able to march into the open field. The great gates began to close, and the warriors cheered as they shut and the towers were reclaimed, their ballistas lighting up and raining hell down on their enemies.

Arya rode Huulthraem into the mess, leading her warriors from the front, her green werelights firing out with dizzying speed, leaving smoking craters upon impact. _**'It will be over soon.'**_ Saphira merely responded with a crunch as she bit an enemy in two.

An hour later saw Eragon walking the field of battle. He was somewhat amazed over how little they had lost. For every elf he saw dead, more than twenty or thirty Voranarch could be found surrounding them. _**'They rely primarily on numbers, for they can birth in great amounts,'**_ Huulthraem had told him when he first observed this. He shuddered though as he saw the cruelty of these creatures. Some had taken to actively eating their fallen brethren or foes during the battle. He had turned away upon coming on a warrior, his face half devoured, his open skull showing bite marks.

The Night Queen walked ahead a ways away with Sri'Hisvran, directing her people to find and care for survivors. A great expeditionary force had spread out, looking for stragglers, slaying them, while attendants prepared great fire pits to burn the corpses. Eragon walked over to where Murtagh sat on an outcropping of rock, cleaning his sword. The middle of it was wrapped in webbing. He was muttering curses under his breath. He looked up and scowled.

"Look what these monsters did." Eragon chuckled before taking the sword and waving a hand over it. He cast a quick spell, the webbing falling off as it turned to ash. His longtime companion grunted his thanks. They sat next to each other, quiet and contemplative. It was a while before Murtagh piped up.

"So, what do you think their deal is?" Before Eragon could respond Huulthraem trotted up, Solembum in boy form rising on his back.

**'Oh that's easy. Sri'Hisvran is Angela's mother. Couldn't you tell?'**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: Some of Angela's backstory is revealed and the companions regroup to discuss what's next
> 
> Please Review!


	12. Plans Within Plans Within Plans

Sri'Hisvran's house was a pleasant change of scenery. It was the early morning of the next day. They had slept, briefly, on the ground outside of the main bridge gate. The Night Queen was more intent on hunting down the Voranarch and reinforcing her city. According to Huulthraem other settlements of the Shadow Elves were under threat and required attention. That was how they found themselves able to avoid uncomfortable confrontations. Murtagh was itching to get back at her for Tornac.

Eragon had cried upon learning of Snowfires death and clasped Murtagh when he presented a rough braid made of the horse's tail. After a few hours of sleep in their grime covered armor, the companions had been approached by the weresabre. Murtagh still didn't trust him, but the fierce feline ignored him. ' _ **Angela, your mother wishes to see you for breakfast.'**_ The fortune teller went gray and turned to her friends. Eragon laughed.

"We already know, Huulthraem let us in on it, though looking at it now...it makes some sort of sense." Murtagh's annoyance let away as he smirked at Angela's discomfort. She scowled and smacked their heads together. Two headaches and a walk found them stepping through the doors of the compound.

"So this is where you grew up, huh?" Murtagh toed the mural depicting the Voranarch's city. "Posh."

"I **didn't** grow up here." Angela looked around with distaste.

"No, she did not. In fact, I imagine she hates this place." Sri'Hisvran had bathed and changed. She wore a simple cerulean garment that she called a sari. It bared her midriff. The six armed woman smiled at all of them, but waved the servants forward. They were all pushed, none too gently, to the baths. Angela seemed oddly subdued as the servants went about bathing them, separated by partitions. Even Solembum couldn't escape, meowling as Huulthraem forced him into the water, dunking him with his large paw.

A short while later found them in the dining room, comfortably dressed, their supplies and catamaran stowed away. Murtagh had refused to part with his sword, but Eragon's relaxed countenance convinced him. Servants presented them with breakfast, but retreated from the room, versus their normal stations at the wall. They ate in silence, Angela's expression wooden. Finally, Murtagh couldn't hold back.

"So...you're Angela's mother. Fancy meeting you here." The Soothsayer smiled.

"And fancy meeting the Son of -"

"Mother!" They all blanched. Angela was red in the face, her curls, almost identical to Sri'Hisvran's now that Eragon could compare, a storm cloud around her. She stared at her mother, clutching the pewter spoon so hard it bent.

"Please don't destroy the cutlery, dear." Angela stood, pushing her chair back, and stormed off. Sri'Hisvran sipped her morning tea and sighed. "Mothers and daughters, never the easiest of relations."

Breakfast was a quiet affair, though Eragon was curious as to who Murtagh's father was and how Sri'Hisvran and Angela seemed to know. He decided not to push the matter. Saphira was curled up outside, Huulthraem having joined her, both tearing away at haunches of some underground bovine called deep rothes. She had at first growled at the weresabre, but he expressed, as only creatures like them truly could, deep sorrow at his actions. Saphira had, much to Eragon's surprise, accepted it and now they happily chewed away.

Angela was nowhere to be found. "She's probably down by the sea, the sea has always been of great comfort to her," Sri'Hisvran had said. After a while, she spoke up again, breaking the awkward silence.

"His name was Angealos, he was a half-elf." Even Solembum was rapt with attention. "When the elves arrived from their lands west across the sea, the Asdhur were already a failing race. At that point," she waved a hand, "we had only but a few, scattered settlements left. Only one city remained, a place called Soreha, essentially meaning sorrow's stand." She laughed, but there was no mirth behind it. It was hollow, and full of the very word she had spoken. Sorrow. She looked off into the garden.

"He made me feel alive again. Long had my visions been of dark tidings, seeing the end of my race. Our magic waned, and we had been dying out. We spent our time preparing for our departure, more than anything. Ensuring those vile creatures were to never seize our knowledge." It was obvious she spoke of the Voranarch.

"We fell madly in love. Yet, I didn't believe I could get pregnant...yet somehow," she waved off in the direction Angela stormed off. "We all had some very good years together. Angealos was an outcast due to his parentage, my people were dying...we traversed the whole of Alagaesia, raising Angela, who I'd named in honor of her father and her part human parentage." Sri'Hisvran grew silent, sipping her tea.

Neither of Murtagh, Eragon, or Solembum made a comment as they saw the seer quietly wipe the side of her eyes. She stood and they followed. She waved them into the garden. They sat on the rim, rapt with attention.

"Now, Eragon," Sri'Hisvran waved about at the world. "You may have gathered by now that something is amiss with you."

"You say that as if something wasn't always amiss with him." Solembum whipped Murtagh upside the head, then curled up on the seer's lap. She continued on as if nothing had been said. She explained about how Angela had taught Eragon to speed up the very fabric of his being, but that by moving up his self he'd opened himself to being a "time wound."

"So let me get this right...Eragon is walking around, sped up but not so much that we can't see him, and is somehow experiencing the effect of things that haven't come to pass?" Sri'Hisvran nodded.

"That's precisely what I'm saying." Murtagh stared at her open mouthed and unsure of anything.

' _ **Let's just go with it. Even I don't fully understand.'**_ Solembum spoke as if that were the definitive word on the matter. Sri'Hisvran scratched his ears and nodded.

"Essentially you've exposed yourself to the dangers of time travel. You're moving fast enough to give yourself little tears in your aura, in the fabric of yourself. So your fears and anxiety were increased ten fold. Are you're exposed to the effects of what any one decision will do." She waved out into the courtyard at the nightfoil trees. "Imagine if you had those trees constantly in front of you, and you could see all of their potential futures, as infinite as they are?" She flicked her hands. They jumped as one burst into flames, one began to shrivel and die, and the other grew tall. With another flick, they returned to normal.

"So what you are saying is that I am experiencing the fear and anxiety based off of the potential results of any decision I may make?" Eragon was no longer as worried, as he was much more intrigued.

"Yes." They all turned, for Angela had joined them. She seemed detached, her expression blank, but she walked up to them. "It seems you've advanced into using what I taught you in such a way that you weren't ready for." Sri'Hisvran nodded, not taking her blind eyes off her daughter.

"If one moves fast enough they can very well move through the fabric of time itself. It's why when this technique is taught you are told to 'visualize time'." Eragon sat back in thought. He stood, and ignoring all of them, went to sit with Saphira. He needed her.

' _ **Not that I mind, but plan on talking any time soon Little One.'**_ Eragon stayed silent, but Saphira could feel Eragon's mind. It was a nest of questions, but his concerns seem to have abated.

' _ **It's not that I'm not worried, I am just more focused on the fact that I know what's wrong now and want to know how to fix it. I can't be plagued by constant worries and nightmares about things they may or may not come to pass.'**_ Saphira dipped her head. They'd learned over the past three years to confront the problems head on, only worried when they didn't know what was plaguing them.

' _ **And, think of it this way, once you know how to fix it we can...and then figure out who Murtagh's father is.'**_ Eragon chuckled and scratched behind a spike, showing his agreement. They fell into silence. Huulthraem had slunk off when Eragon had come out. Saphira told him the others were in the courtyard, discussing the Voranarch. ' _ **Why do you think Angela stormed off as she did?'**_ Normally Eragon was the one to ask such mundane questions, Saphira rarely concerned herself with the motives of...well, anyone but Eragon. The Rider shrugged against Saphira's neck where he lay.

' _ **Sri'Hisvran said they had a difficult relationship. I could certainly relate.'**_ Eragon was still curious, to that very day, who his mother had been, Selina, and who his father was, an unknown. Eragon's head began to throb as he was wracked by a vision. Carvahall, burning, but no people running about. Saphira growled.

' _ **Enough,'**_ her voice seemed to pull him from the vision. ' _ **It is time for us to resolve this predicament, permanently.'**_ Eragon held his head with both hands and nodded.

He asked a servant if there was a way for Saphira to be present in their deliberations. He wasn't too surprised when they moved back one of the rootwood and sea glass walls, revealing it as more of a giant sliding door, which let Saphira slide her head into the stone garden. The others were sipping from goblets of ocean kumquat wine. "I imagine you're back because of the vision you just had?" Sri'Hisvran was back to smiling enigmatically. Angela snorted and rolled her eyes. Her mother ignored her.

Eragon was taken aback, but it was Murtagh who asked, "how did you know?" The seer shrugged and adjusted her shawl.

"When you have skills like mine, you learn how to observe and detect these things. Now, this needs to be fixed. And soon. Listen here." They all leaned in, save Angela, eager to hear how to fix Eragon's miniature time traveling problem.

In the tower at the center of Neth'Anyar, Queen Arya stood with Tebimar, who she entrusted as head of her army. The man's skin was a slate gray color, the effect of thousands of years of living underground. His hair, bone white, stood out in contrast to her almost ink black, save the single silver streak. He wielded a massive scythe, it's wicked blade having cleaved many a spider's head, as well as many a traitorous elf.

"We've sent a company of Ghost Striders to follow the Andlat River, they're tracking the Vizier we believe responsible for leading the attack. They'll call in the location upon confirmation." He continued on with various details regarding the aftermath of the attack. Arya absorbed but offered little comment save the occasional observation or order. Her mind was elsewhere. She dismissed Tebimar before long. She took a large gulp from her goblet, the liquid burning down her throat. It was an alcoholic beverage made of distilled tubers, clear in color. It was almost impossible for her to befuddle her mind. Yet she tried, on a regular basis. Better to numb herself than remember anything from her year of imprisonment.

"Come in," she hissed as a knock sounded. A shiver went up her spine and she turned, scowling. "High Priestess." Lady Istana, Matron of Reap, the second largest Shadow Elf city, stood before her. She was also the High Priestess of the Dancing Lady. Unlike the elves of Du Weldenvarden, the Shadow Elves were religious. Annoyingly so. Istana bowed.

"Your Majesty." Arya waved her forward, pouring the noble woman a glass of wine. They sat on the low backed lacquered chairs favored by the higher classes. She held up her goblet. "To a very great victory for you and our people." Arya mimicked her, draining her glass.

"So what brings the Matron of Reap to my chambers?" Arya's tone was flat, lacking the lilt of Istana. The woman smiled at the queen.

"Am I not allowed to visit my sovereign, congratulate her on her victory?" Arya laughed, the hollow sound echoing around the chamber and making Istana's hair stand on end.

"We both know that that is about as truthful as the story you tell of how your sister fell from a cliff whilst hunting a wild roche. Pushed. By you. Is more like it." Ary poured herself another drink, choosing a sweet moonglow pear brandy. She made a mock toast to Istana, who dropped pretense.

"Fine, I am here because there is a great curiosity as to why you brought the Rider and his dragon? What purpose do they serve? Are you to press them into service? Is the young man to be your consort? Our people -"

" **My** people, Your Ladyship, will know my designs when I decide to let them be known." Istana had stopped, Arya's voice crawling over her like barbs. "I have a purpose for them both and it will be fulfilled and when it is time to let you all know **what** it is I will let you know. Now," she stood, the High Priestess rushing to do the same, "I wish to rest after the battle. See yourself out." Istana bowed low and made to exit but paused as the Night Queen called out to her.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Ever speak to me like this again and you won't even register the knife slicing across your throat."

' _ **Careful, Eragon.'**_ He nodded as Huulthraem instructed him on how to carefully mix together the necessary ingredients for the ritual. He was sweating as he carefully threaded the quicksilver into tiny chain links, muttering a continuous incantation. This was the final batch, three other identical chains already strung high in the air. He breathed out in relief as the final chain attached to the metal ring. He collapsed in exhaustion, gratefully accepting the waterskin from Murtagh. Above them Sri'Hisvran and Angela flung a black mesh net over the rods holding the ring in place, a canopy of show that matched the air above Neth'Anyar.

He and Murtagh watched in fascination as the nightfoil sap traveled up from the bubbling pools of silver, tiny pewter colored thorns forming as it traveled up and up. ' _ **Tis a ritual called Temporal Reinstatement. It will end your predicament by closing any potential rifts and slowing you down. This net,'**_ he waved at the canopy above them that would've bathed them in complete darkness save the paua shell lanterns, ' _ **will be used to contain any chronomagics that are unleashed.'**_ Eragon read over the scroll that the seer had given him, the language unknown to him, but Huulthraem translated.

The diagram showed complex formulae and diagrams, but Eragon primarily focused on the figure in the center of the example, presumably the subject of the ritual. Murtagh sat next to him, brow furrowed, as the servants ran too and fro, carrying incense burners and drawing protective sigils on beams and stone tiles. "Won't they report to that blasted queen of theirs," he whispered to Eragon, but it wasn't he who answered.

"No, they're loyal to my...to her." Angela had been silent, withdrawn, Solembum padding after her, rubbing against her legs when he could. The young men were silent, but the herbalist kept speaking. "She has lived in Neth'Anyar for longer than that vile harpy of an elf." They both chuckled at Angela's venom. "She came here some years ago, searching for something. She ended up setting up shop," and she waved around at the house.

"Searching? Searching for what?" Murtagh's brow furrowed.

"Never all of you mind," said the soothsayer as she approached. The boys stood. Saphira's head dipped through the opening made for her. "Now, let's talk brass tacks, as humans would say. The ritual is designed to identify any tears in the fabric of time, which is created by Eragon moving at a constantly higher speed than the rest of us." Everyone nodded, the light created from Saphira's scales danced at a dizzying pace. "However," she turned to Eragon, "tis dangerous." He shrugged, Murtagh sighed, and Angela finally cracked a joke.

"You don't say." Her tone was sarcastic. Sri'Hisvran looked at her daughter.

"How many times must I tell you that sarcasm is no substitute for wit." Angela rolled her eyes and cracked her fingers.

"Get to the point." The asdhur woman shrugged.

"Essentially we are going to make these tears appear and close them one by one, and then slow Eragon down so that he isn't constantly in and out of time. It's a complex project that will require blood magic. Now, next we must -" A servant rushed in, Sri'Hisvran pausing.

"The Night Queen is here, she demands to see our guests my lady." For the first time since he'd arrived, Eragon saw the seer frown and she furrowed her brow.

Queen Arya wore a simple all black leather outfit, her sword at her hip, three green werelights floating around her head. She'd abandoned her armor and cloak. Her hair was held in a high ponytail, held in place by a wicked looking barbed clip. She inspected the seer, a woman she had never trusted and would have forced from the city if she knew how...or had the support to do so.

"What do you mean 'No'?" Sri'Hisvran crossed all six of her arms.

"It's not a very difficult word, Arya."

" **Queen** Arya, Seer."

"Earn my respect first, **elf.** " Eragon was shocked.

' _ **That hardly seems like a wise decision of hers."**_ Saphira didn't respond but he could tell that she agreed. Instead of showing anger, Arya smirked, though it was mirthless.

"Come now, Soothsayer, you can't reasonably think you'd have the support of the council if you attempt to stop me. Eragon and Saphira are my captives, as are the other three and I will not be denied. They will attend the council chamber tomorrow." Before any of them could respond, The Night Queen swept from the room. Sri'Hisvran threw up her hands.

"Tcha! That foolish little girl!" She turned from them and briskly walked off, shouting orders about. Huulthraem sighed.

' _ **Well, it seems we are in a bit of a pickle. Doesn't it?'**_ He told everyone to follow him. He walked out of the house and chuffed at Saphira who took off. Murtagh leaned in to whisper at them all as they followed Huulthraem to a series of steep steps that led down to a terrace covered in fluorescent fungi.

"We need to escape, tonight." But to their surprise Angela shook her head no, as did Solembum, now in boy form.

"We can't," the herbalist whispered back. "The elves will have, by now, repaired their defenses, and doubled their guard. And these ones won't have the same regard for dragons as the surface dwelling ones."

' _ **If you're done planning and then foiling your own escape, your attention please.'**_ They winced and turned to the weresabre, now sitting. ' _ **Good hearing, a blessing all felines possess.'**_ Even Solembum purred at that. They sat.

"Alright then you overgrown fur lummox, what's this all about?" Angela was peeved.

' _ **The Queen is on a request for revenge...that she's disguised as a mission in support of her people.'**_ Murtagh raised an eyebrow.

"You'll need to explain that one, and please," he cried out, "use plain words. I've enough headaches to last me a lifetime." The weresabre launched into an explanation.

' _ **Arya was a prisoner of the Empire, captured three years ago. She spent most of the time in a cell in Gil'ead where she was...quite brutally and viciously tortured...by a shade. A shade named Durza.'**_ Before anyone could react Eragon clutched Saphira, as white as a sheet.

' _ **Saphira, you don't think it could be -'**_

" _ **Oh, but Eragon, I do.'**_ Murtagh looked at the two of them. It was Angela who whistled.

"Want to explain what you and your overgrown lizard are so surprised by?" Eragon, with help from Saphira, quickly relayed the visions he'd had three years ago of an elf woman trapped in a prison. Huulthraem's tail twitched excitedly.

' _ **It was assuredly Her Majesty, of that I am positive. Yes,'**_ he nodded _ **, 'it must've been. You see, she was imprisoned and tortured in such a way…'**_ he broke off, looking out over the pitch black sea that could only be seen thanks to the light of Neth'Anyar. Solembum walked forward and tentatively hugged the weresabre, who nuzzled into his touch.

"Tortured in what way? As in she...oh you mean she….oh…oh dear…" Angela looked off, stricken. Murtagh and Eragon and Saphira were all confused, each of them looking at each other.

"What in the blazes are you talking about? What did this Shade do to her?" Angela held up a hand.

"We best not speak of it," but they noticed she wiped her eyes, "but it does explain a lot…especially her sparkling personality." Though she was sarcastic, there was no malice in it. Huulthraem turned back and shook himself, patting Solembum on the back.

' _ **Do not worry younglings, the point is that the Queen desires revenge, and is justified in doing so, but she seeks to draw Durza, the shade who hath harmed her, out to her...by using you Eragon and you Saphira...as bait.'**_ Eragon shrugged.

"Can't say this surprises me. It would make sense if she wants this Shade to come." His heart shrank with icy fear as he thought of a shade. Angela had explained how Shade's were created and shuddered. They sounded like horrific creatures.

"Yes, but she puts even herself in grave danger, even with her enormous abilities a Shade is," she made a wide armed motion, "a gulf more powerful than an elven queen." Huulthraem nodded his enormous head.

' _ **That's the problem. The Night Queen took control of the Shadow Elves to build herself an army, a force, to fight him with. And by extension, the Shade's employer.'**_ Murtagh spoke up.

"His employer?" He was wary, but prepared for what the worst was, for it was almost as if the word hung in the air already.

' _ **King Galbatorix.'**_

Sri'Hisvran sat across from General Tebimar, the man observing his old friend tiredly. "I cannot stop Her Majesty. Her word is law."

"Nonsense, Tebby, the Council can override her if -"

"If there is political will to do so and I promise you there is not. Only Huulthraem and, although reluctantly, I would vote to invoke a delay on her actions. The rest of the council is more concerned about the Shade. More and more soldiers of the Empire push north. Already their machines have discovered outlying tunnels. How long before we are discovered? How long before all of our progress in the last two years is erased?" He ended with a shout.

The Seer observed him imperiously, crossing her arms. "If you had taken the throne when I'd told you, you would have -" He held up a hand.

"Stop. Please." She sat back and sipped her ice water, looking out. Fort Dementa, one of the two towers making up the main gate, overlooked the environs. Great pyres still blazed, the carcasses of the Voranarch burning and filled the air with a sickly, acrid smell. "Sri...I don't mean to insult you, but I do not think you are reading our concerns well enough. The removal of this Shade, this Durza, will keep us safe." She snorted

"Safe? Safe!? Allowing Eragon, Saphira, Murtagh, Solembum, and my daughter to get out of here is what will keep them safe! Galbatorix and that blasted Shade of his search for the gate! And once they find it all hell will break loose! So the best chance we have is to get them out of here and get Eragon to your surface cousins so he can be trained by the last of his order!"

It was late when the seer returned. She changed for dinner, joining the others. They noted her grim expression and silence. For the rest of the afternoon they'd discussed ways to convince the Night Queen to let them leave, ways to convince her that letting them go was best. Saphira had even offered to swear to her, on her honor as a dragon, that they'd return and help her get her revenge. Before they could broach the topic with Sri'Hisvran the seer spoke up.

"You need to get out of here." They all stopped. Huulthraem and Saphira were lapping at saucers of wine, their tongues midway to slurp. Eragon cleared his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"She's good at throwing people out of her house and life." Sri'Hisvran banged her fists down.

"Enough Angela! You know what I meant!" She looked directly at Eragon. "Tomorrow you will attend the Night Queen's Council, then we will perform the ritual and pretend that you are to be handed over to her custody the day after, but tomorrow evening the five of you **will** leave my house and Neth'Anyar. I will arrange everything for you to travel safely out of the Depth Reaches and back to the surface world."

Murtagh spoke up as they digested the news. "And where exactly are we to go? We had planned," he waved his hand, "to travel to Ceunon and then south to Surda, to Aberon. FInd a way to contact the Varden. It's an open secret that -"

"That Surda supports the Varden, I know. I agree with the idea, but not the way you plan on going. Traveling in the open will be too dangerous, your best bet is to cross over and down, and end in the middle of the Spine." She plucked a scroll out of her robes and unfurled it. Everyone gathered around her, Saphira hovering over them with a single eye gazing downwards.

"This map shows where the old highway system of my people existed. It is no longer traveled by man or common beast so you'll be relatively undisturbed." She traced down the path with one of her many hands. "Go here to Edur Carthungave."

"The Spine's tailbone," Angela said. Her mother nodded.

"Yes, and then cross the bay to Surda." Angela raised an eyebrow.

"Not to put a damper on this, for it's not exactly an impossible plan...but how do you expect us to cross the bay?' Sri'Hisvran flapped her many hands.

"Never you mind, I will take care of that. Now," she took on an imperious air, "cross to Surda and go to Dauth. There, the city's ruler, Lady Alarice, will expect the arrival of five travelers, though she won't know one is a werecat and the other a dragon. I will have a missive for her but you must not open it. It must be opened by her, lest she won't trust your words. DO you understand me?" The companions were terribly bewildered.

"How in the hell do you know who the ruler of -"

"Never mind that! This is the plan and I need you all to swear by it! It's taken many resources to get this up and running in just a few days, so swear by it!" They were all dead silent, till Solembum spoke up.

' _ **Might as well, seeing as none of us has any better ideas on how to get out of here.'**_ He pointedly glared at Angela, but the witch sighed and swore. As did they all.

None of them were allowed to bring weapons to the council chambers. Sri'Hisvran had awoken all of them early, which Eragon and Murtagh grumbled about for they had spent all night discussing the Soothsayer's plan, then going over what they'd need for a hard winter journey down the Spine, none of them looking forward to it, but acknowledging the map of the Asdhurian Highway would help.

The servants fed them kelp porridge and stout tea. It was filling, if not terribly delicious. Angela had been pulled by her mother, none too gently, into her room. She reappeared, with a grumpy expression, in a cyan sari with bronze bells along the fringe. She had chased Solembum away as he batted at the bells like a kitten. Nobody dared to comment at her murderous expression as Sri'Hisvran extolled how beautiful she looked.

Murtagh and Eragon had both been given simple black tunics and pants with ankle high boots. Eragon wore a thick azure cloak over his, wrapped around and falling to one side. Sri'Hisvran had grabbed him and applied kohl to the bottom of his eyes, the Rider protesting as Saphira rumbled in amusement. They all piled into the carriage, pulled by two large gray rothes with oiled horns and brushed coats. ' _ **I wish you were going with us,'**_ Eragon said as they set off down the paved road into the city.

' _ **Fear not, you'll be fine. We'll convince them that we have acquiesced and then steal away in the middle of the night. They will be none the wiser.'**_ Eragon chuckled. A few years back Saphira would have been disgusted by the idea of eloping in the middle of the night, but years of survival had taught her when best to retreat quietly...or as quiet as a dragon could.

As they crossed into the main part of the city Eragon was surprised. It seemed, for lack of a better word, normal. People went about their business, guards and soldiers could be seen observing for trouble, stalls and market stands were full of goods, and overall he could see that Neth'Anyar was just like any other city. ' _ **Maybe we can come back one day and actually see what this place has to offer.'**_ Saphira snorted in derision at her Rider's words.

They crossed the plaza and stopped at the foot of The Tower of Menobaeren, named for the elf explorer who was essentially the first Sundavar Alfakyn. Guards surrounded them and escorted them to the stone lift, climbing high over the city as they entered the council chambers. Angela and Murtagh looked around, stopping as they observed the dragon skull throne. "Now that," said Murtagh pointing, "is gruesome."

' _ **What a foul, loathsome thing! Whoever committed such an act should be burned with dragon's fire!'**_ Saphira proceeded to wax and wane over the vicious things she would have done, or would do, to the creator. Eragon couldn't help but laugh at her creativity and relay some of her threats to his companions. As with before, the council chamber filled with its members, Huulthraem taking a seat next to the throne, and music crescendoed as the Night Queen was announced and entered.

She was back to wearing her armor and viridian cloak. She sat on her throne and the guards banged their wicked polearms. "Council in session."

Eragon was bored, as was Murtagh and Solembum by the looks of it. Angela and Sri'Hisvran were both knitting away, while Solembum had rolled around on the floor but had been stopped by Angela, who had harshly whispered for him to, "have some dignity!" Murtagh stifled a yawn and leaned to Eragon.

"You know, for a group of people meaning to use you as bait, they are taking their time in sentencing you to your fate."

"...Thanks. I feel far better now."

"Humans." They both snapped their heads up. The whole council looked upon them from where they sat against the wall at the edge of the room. Queen Arya waved them forward lazily. "The witch and the cat too." Solembum growled low, but Angela nudged him with her foot, handing her knitting to her mother. The four of them stood in the middle of the room. Saphira joined her mind with Eragon's to observe.

' _ **Just remember to act the part and we can hold onto this ruse.'**_ He would've nodded if it wouldn't give them away.

"Well...first and foremost, thanks are in order. Your assistance in battle against the Voranarch does not go unnoticed." Arya was downright condescending and clapped her hands lazily, though the other council members were more genuine and real in their applause. "However, all of you and thine dragon," she nodded at Eragon, "are still our prisoners. For we have need of you." She waved Tebimar forward. The general stood.

"We are under threat by a great enemy. You have no need to know its name or where it comes from, just that we face it. Unfortunately we have not been able to lay a trap of sufficient strength to lure it out. As such, The Dark Lady, in her wisdom," he nodded to her, "felt that amore tempting target should be presented. This is where you come in." He bowed and sat down. Arya spoke up.

"Eragon and Saphira will be laid in wait, their presence made obvious and clear, so that the enemy comes forth to capture them. When he does, our forces, led by myself, will be waiting. Our trap will be sprung and we will lay waste to this threat. Never again shall it threaten our beloved home." She ended on a mighty note, the assembled council clapping and cheering enthusiastically. Even Huulthraem roared, but he spoke to the four.

' _ **Whoever shields your minds has done well. And nice expressions. You all look sufficiently terrified and pissed off.'**_

' _ **...Because we are,'**_ answered Angela, her tone sardonic. Nobody noticed Sri'Hisvran chuckle.

The rest of the meeting had passed in a blur. They had all pretended to protest, pouring their very real anger into their voices. Murtagh had even rushed forwards, screaming about Tornac, but was held back by the guards. Eragon could tell his anger over their steeds was dead real. They were escorted down the tower and out to the carriage, Huulthraem following. ' _ **The Queen has ordered guards to watch over the house. A natural reaction, one we expected, but be aware.'**_ The companions, by silent tacit agreement were silent as they rode back to the compound.

Saphira stood and stretched, SOlembum bounding up to lay on her head. They all gathered in a sitting room, a sumptuous spread laid out for them. Saphira was full, but happily munched on several fried underwater lobster tails as a treat. ' _ **Well?'**_

' _ **We are being watched.'**_ Eragon relayed to Saphira how the council had gone, for she had only listened in when needed, the back of her mind taking everything in as she helped the servants prepare for departure by directing them. ' _ **All in all, she's convinced.'**_ After the mental strain of preventing them from being found out, the companions were quiet, but it was Angela who spoke up.

"We had best get started on this ritual. Eragon needs to be made whole before we journey forth." Sri'Hisvran stretched and yawned, but nodded.

"My daughter," she ignored Angela's wince, "is right." She looked about at the servants. "Tell everyone to vacate to the terraces until Huulthraem fetches you all. They bowed,

"My Lady."

"Are we really doing this now? Don't we want to wait until we've had a rest?" Murtagh was ready for a nap and rubbed his eyes. Royal courts between humans and elves didn't seem all that different. It'd made his head thick and hazy. The blind seer shook her head.

"We must do this immediately and prepare for your departure, that way you have time to rest before you must flee in the night." She looked at Eragon. The rider shuddered.

' _ **What is it Little One? Aren't you wanting to resolve this problem?'**_

Eragon was slow to respond. ' _ **I am...I just worry I will mess up again. That I will make a move that will send me spiraling into oblivion. We are talking about time here, right?'**_ Saphira shared his worries, but saw no choice. Reluctantly Eragon stood.

"Let's get this over with."

Eragon stood in the center of the courtyard in nothing but a simple black floor length kilt. It was open at the sides, only covering his posterior and frontal area, secured by thin chains. Symbols drawn in a white paste covered his chest, arms, and forehead. Murtagh and Sri'Hisvran stood at opposite ends of the courtyard. Angela raised a mallet and brought it down. The bang of the drum reverberated through the air as Sri'Hisvran cut two of her wrists and began chanting and undulating in a language Eragon couldn't recognize.

Saphira sat dead still with Huulthraem and Solembum on either side of her, moral support as she watched the air shimmer around Eragon, thin ribbons of blood like mist wrapping around him. Murtagh read from the scroll, the words in the ancient language falling from his lips like lead. The bloody mist was joined by sparkles of white and gold, an occasional black pin prick appearing.

Eragon breathed through his nose. ' _ **Here goes nothing.'**_ He began chanting in the ancient language as instructed. He spoke of time, of space, of the world around them, of seeing and visualizing time itself. At first, he felt no energy leave him, but gradually he noticed the creating ebb as his magic began to use up his strength. The chains floating over him slowly moved inward, leaving the now bubbling pools of quicksilver, coming closer and closer to him. He paused as they stopped, as if meeting an invisible pillar, forming a perfect square.

' _ **Now Bjartskular, your flames!'**_ At Huulthraem's command Saphira bathed Eragon in dragon fire, though she was worried in the extreme. Eragon's eyes were shut tight, but he stopped and opened them as he felt a radiant warmth around slowly opened his eyes, before they snapped open in wonder. So many images surrounded him in the fire, drops of quicksilver bloomed like clusters of nightfoil leaves and formed windows. Colors that he couldn't even name swirled about him, as he observed so many scenes.

He saw Garrow, on his deathbed, gasping for breath. He saw Brom running towards him, and gripping him as he fell. He saw Jeod laughing as he was regaled with their flight to Teirm.

He saw himself, delighted as Angela presented him with a book for Yuletide. He saw Murtagh chasing after Solembum after the cat had stolen three cooked salmon from the newly built clay oven. He beheld Sphira as she hauled back her first cave bear kill, a mighty wound in her side that she was terribly proud of.

He blushed for he saw himself with a feverish face, head snapped back, moaning, gripping the coverings of a bed. He saw soldiers marching on a field of battle, Murtagh marching with them at its head. He saw three shapes in the sky...dragons! Three great dragons as they circled in the sky.

Without warning the pictures evaporated, the fire went out, and his body glowed an angry, pulsing red. And right there, like a nick on his forearm, was a single inky black sliver, angry tendrils pouring from it. The time wound, given physical form.

' _ **Eragon, look, your body!'**_ Saphira's tone was one of awe and no little fear. He looked at his hands and down at himself. He was shaking. Not a great tremor, but almost as if he was producing a constant buzzing sound.

' _ **There is no time for wonderment, Eragon, the spell I taught you, quickly.'**_ Sri'Hisvran was tired, her voice sluggish as she continued her undulating and wailing. Murtagh's entire body was covered in sweat and he was pale. Angela had continued to drum, but now joined her mother in her wailing, adding her strength.

' _ **Right. Saphira, together.'**_ Rider and Dragons spoke with a single voice, Sphira giving her strength, and slowly but surely the wound's tendrils bega to curl in on itself, and the slit became smaller, and smaller. A few moments later Eragon's body slowly began to slow and slow till he shook no more.

Eragon breathed deeply as he ended his meditation. He slowly opened his eyes, a smile overtaking his face. ' _ **So, no longer troubled by what will never come to be?'**_ He chuckled, standing and stretching. He patted Saphira's chest.

' _ **It may still yet come to be, but the infinite possibilities no longer plague me, yes.'**_ That was good enough for him. His companions still slept, for they had expended the majority of energy. Angela had carried her mother to her room, waving everyone off, a tender look on her face as she wiped her mother's brow, slick with sweat. Eragon climbed the steps back to the house, followed by two polearm wielding guards. Saphira lunged, glided, and landed.

Eragon walked in, expecting everyone to still be asleep, but was surprised to find everyone had gathered in Sri'Hisvran's study. The soothsayer's lower half was covered in a blanket, but Angela sat next to her, though at the other end of the lounge. Spread around them were sweets and such confectionaries. Saphira listened in through Eragon, not being able to get in.

"Saphira is listening I trust?" Eragon nodded at Murtagh and sat down, plucking up a pastry.

"Good, you're here. We need to get cracking." Angela held up the map. "We've been going over this. The best way to get onto the highway, the ancient Asdhurian road, is through here," she pointed at a spot southwest of Utgard, north of Flam Lake. She traced a line back up towards Ceunon. "We'll move south, till we are under Ceunon, then cross over till we reach an opening near a crag up against the Anora River." She turned to her mother who nodded.

"This will be the dangerous part. You will need to cross in the open, just south of Utgard, till you reach the pass that will lead you up to the old highway. There will be markers, well hidden and overgrown by now, but they are there." Murtagh scowled.

"Passing in the open will be dangerous. Do you know how far it will be?" Sri'Hisvran shrugged.

"Five, maybe six leagues. I'd suggest trying to move as quickly as possible. Perhaps not even stopping to rest." They all groaned at that, but Saphira piped up.

' _ **We can handle a day or two without sleep. We've done it before.'**_ Sri'Hisvran continued.

"You will get onto the imperial highway and from there it should be relatively easy. I've provided you all with various other maps and such that should mark old settlements and such. It will allow you to find shelter. And who knows, you already found some riches in an old waystation. Who knows what else is out there. And, speaking of," she clapped her hands. Servants poured in. They carried several trunks. They opened the first three. All of their individual belongings were there, the three companions happy to be reunited with them, for they had been seized after the battle. A smaller case held Solembums.

At their exclamations the soothsayer told them, "I requested that your belongings be handed over to me, as you are officially in my custody. Out in the hall was their two wheeled liter, which had held the trunks and had piles and wrappings with their supplies. Eragon looked at the two other trunks that had been presented to them. He raised an eyebrow as Solembum sniffed them.

"Angela, be a dear and open the first one for me?" The witch paused but did as requested. It held their treasures from the waystation, bronze short swords with holes in the handles for fingers, wicked arrows, Murtagh's shield, and other such items. They all sat as Sri'Hisvran told them about the items.

"I had my servants retrieve your arrows, Eragon. They are Asdhurian in make and, as such, are ensorcelled. We call them Indra Arrows." He was surprised to indeed find all of the arrows there. "As for the short swords, I request that you leave them here. They will find use before long, believe me. It'll be one less thing to carry. Though please take the gold and gems. You'll need coin." They nodded, happy to have lighter loads.

"We're not traveling traders, moth -" Angela stopped as Sri'Hisvran paused, but moved on.

"As for these rings, she held up the ram skull shaped rings. These are Shklat Rings. A simple incantation and they can be used to pummel down obstacles." She handed them to Angela since, "you love to collect off bits of jewelry." She told Murtagh to pick up the shield.

"That bird is called The Garuda, a guardian of my people of sorts. The shield was forged in the first golden age of my people, in our city of Simurgh. May it serve you well." Murtagh regarded the shield with new reverence and nodded. She then held up the little figure, the hollow man.

"As for this...this is the most important item you've come across." They all paused and watched as she blew on the little sliver of crystal. The statue's head twisted and popped off. A complex key head extended, and the bottom twisted and popped off as well, revealing a hollow area.

' _ **How interesting,'**_ even Saphira was surprised.

"What exactly is that," asked Eragon, amazed that such a little thing could be so complex. Sri'Hisvran smiled.

"This, Eragon, is a key. A key to the subterranean tunnel network built by the Asdhur. And it is your key out of here." She held it up as they all leaned in, "this is your key to escaping Neth'Anyar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: A daring escape lands the companions in the middle of wild, uncharted (for them) territory, but with a clear plan. If they can escape Neth'Anyar and onto the ancient highway in the Spine, what awaits them in the mountains that Eragon had once called his home? And...why does Sri'Hisvran want them to go south and speak to Lady Alarice?
> 
> And, PLEASE REVIEW!


	13. Setting the Board

"It's time." The words sent a thrill through Eragon as he rose from his bed. They'd not slept much, but he didn't mind. The adrenaline coursing through him was more than enough. He dressed in haste. Sri'Hisvran had piping hot coffee waiting for them. Eragon poured a generous amount of rothe milk into his. The liter lay in the hall on a bed of cloth, laden with their carried in several elven guards, knocked out cold. "Looks like your potion worked," whispered Murtagh. Angela gave him a feral grin. As planned, Sri'Hisvran had offered the guards refreshments and they'd taken them. A simple sleeping draught had put them out cold.

Eragon shrugged on his coat, happy to have it back on, as it was dear to him. Val'synra was laid across his back with the ancient quiver and his falchions were belted at his side. He pulled a black cloth face covering to cover his nose and mouth. "Very dashing." The seer was dressed in a nightgown. She gave her signal and the servants streamed forth, picked up the liter and, while carrying a few other essentials, moved quietly out and down the steps to the terrace, and further down to the shore. They wore felt shoes and hoods with crystal eyes so they could see in the dark. Solembum held a rope in his mouth that the others clutched so that they knew the direction, just to be sure.

' _ **Took you long enough.'**_ Saphira was irritable, pressed low to a slimy rock, eager to lick her normally pristine self clean. The lights of the city were lowered, so as to give the appearance of night. Three boats, the color of soot, waited for them. They were flat bottomed, and low. As quietly as possible their things were loaded, Sri'Hisvran directing with efficiency.

' _ **Well, you couldn't exactly have flown down now, it was less suspicious for you to wait here.'**_

' _ **You try clinging to a slimy rock for a few hours and then talk to me about necessity.'**_ She was in no mood. Soon the boats were full, the servants pulled out long, thin oars to paddle them. The companions stood on the shore, facing the Soothsayer, the Seer Sri'Hisvran, the mother of Angela.

"Oh cheer up, this isn't goodbye." She seemed as if she were saying goodbye to friends after a lovely afternoon together. She produced a scroll with a red wax seal from her robe and handed it to Angela. "That's for Lady Alarice, and don't forget to open your gifts when you're out of the Depth Reaches, but not before then." She hugged Murtagh first, the warrior gingerly, then whole heartedly, hugged her back. She pet Solembum, the werecat purring, before turning to Angela, Murtagh and Eragon turned away, but they could overhear.

"Next time...just call me. I'd have helped you know? Especially with him increasing the rate that his molecules sped up and -"

"Mother." The woman stopped and observed her daughter. She slowly reached out for the witch's hands, happy that she didn't pull away.

"Our last parting was not…" Sri'Hisvran sucked in a breath, "It was not what it should have been and things were said that should not have been said. I won't speak of forgiveness but…"

"Maybe we can do better with each other." Angela's words were soft, whispered, and brought her mother to tears. Mother and daughter embraced, hugging tightly.

"Be safe, My Little Witch." They hugged again, both drying their eyes. Sri'Hisvran pulled Eragon into an embrace.

"Thank you, for everything, truly, Sri'Hisvran." She smiled and cupped his cheeks, held his hands, and grasped his shoulders.

"Your destiny awaits Eragon. And fear is the mind killer. Remember that it will only bring you to ruin." He nodded and she embraced him again. They all loaded into the boats as Saphira slipped into the water, Sri'Hisvran patting her on the jowls. And with a whispered good luck, the servants pushed off, Saphira following, into the night.

Huulthraem padded up beside his companion, having remained at the house. ' _ **They're off then.'**_

' _ **Yes...they're off...and safe from her...for now.'**_

' _ **Yes...what do you propose we do about that particular problem?'**_

" _ **You're her majordomo, you deal with it.'**_ She turned and walked back up, the weresabre walking alongside. They were quiet for a while. Sri'Hisvran retired to her rooms, stripping off the soiled gown and robe and slipped into a more loose and comfortable one, worn with age.

' _ **Well?'**_

' _ **Well what, Huulthraem? I'm tired.'**_

' _ **Are you going to muster the armies of the fae or am I?'**_

The rock wall on the other side of the monstrous cavern was monumental. It was a sheer rock cliff that dropped hundreds of feet, or rose depending on your vantage point. The servants had brought them to the edge of it. Now came for the tricky part. Saphira had to time it so that right as the great bells that announced the start of the early morning rang, she'd spring from the water and fly to the top, to the tiny little ledge, ropes clutched in her great claws.

They waited, huddled in darkness. Angela harrumphed but was shushed by Murtagh, who was hissed at by Solembum, but suddenly a voice roared in their heads.

' _ **SHUT IT!'**_ Eragon was in no mood to get caught. They could bicker to their hearts content once they were all far from The Night Queen.

"It's almost time." The servants pulled an oilskin cloth over everything, everyone crouching down in preparation for Saphira to launch. Right on cue a single bell rang out, followed by a growing chorus till on the final set of rings, the water rumbled as Saphira heaved herself into the air, great lengths of rope trailing her like tentacles. The companions waited with baited breath, but no watch fires sprung up or horns rang out as the dragon continued her ascent.

' _ **I've landed...and there's not much room. Get up here.'**_ As planned, Eragon and Solembum, clinging to his back went first. He attached a thong of leather around the rope and secured himself. Slowly he began to climb. Before long he found himself unable to see much of anything as he climbed through the darkness. He could feel the chill of the air and the frozen rock wall as he ascended, the rope swaying. As his anxiety grew he remembered with Sri'Hisvran had said to him. ' _ **Fear is the mindkiller.'**_ He dare not communicate with anyone right now, so he repeated his mantra to himself, over and over.

' _ **You can stop muttering to yourself. We've reached the top.'**_ Solembum clambered off his back and right up against Saphira. The dragon wasn't kidding. Deep gouges in the stone showed where she'd had to buffer herself when landing. She was hunched like a gargoyle, and her lips were flipped back, annoyed at her predicament.

' _ **And to think we have to wait till the next sounding of the bells.'**_ And indeed they did. Eragon moved along the wall, Solembum's red eyes following him as he searched for the key hole, as instructed. Before long he found it. Perfectly round with oddly shaped grooves on the inside, the statue fit perfectly. So Eragon stood there, pressed against the back wall of the shallow outcropping, avoiding the sharp ends of Saphira's spikes. Nobody dared speak, the sound of their breathing the only focus. Then, the sound of bells filled the air again and Eragon leant over and breathed on the sliver of crystal, imbuing his breath with energy. The key activated, the two ends popping off triggering the complex clockwork and gears. As the bells reached crescendo a great split and crack could be heard by Eragon. He watched in amazement as the entire face of the wall slid upwards, revealing a massive expanse of tunnel behind it.

Saphira practically sighed, as much as she could, and happily slunk back into the tunnel where she could stretch, which she did, promptly, before snaking her head forward.

' _ **Alright, let's pull it all up.**_

The Night Queen, Arya, stormed through the doorways of Sri'Hisvran's home. Her guards trailed after her, armed to the teeth. Her sword was out, her hair whipped around her as a malevolent energy rolled off her in waves. She kicked open the doors of the seer's study. Instead of finding the soothsayer surrounded by armed guards, or prepared to fight, she sat calmly at her desk, sipping tea and writing. Right as the guards circled her, she waved a single hand. They all crumpled, thrown against the walls. Even though lamps, scrolls, books, and other paraphernalia fell to the floor, the seer didn't seem to mind. She took a sip of her tea.

"Yes, Arya, what is it?" The Night Queen lashed out, an orb of sickly green light blowing apart an ancient bronze vessel.

"Go ahead, I have plenty of them." Sri'Hisvran finished writing a letter, pouring a small amount of melted wax upon it, sealing it with a signet, before ringing a bell as she sifted around papers on her desk, her unseeing eyes looking for something. A servant entered.

"Ma'am?"

"These are all ready to go," she waved at a stack of letters, scrolls, and even a ledger. "Oh and I'll have luncheon on the terrace today, nothing too fancy. If you'd please let my guests know. I think some roast grasshopper and stewed nettles. Cook may choose whatever else he wishes to add. Oh," she looked up, "please bring in a chair for Her Majesty." The servant bowed, took the things, and sped off.

"How dare you!?" Sri'Hisvran still didn't look up, taking out a blank piece of parchment, beginning another letter.

"Arya, if you're here to scold me then your anger is unjustified. I'd no idea they'd planned on escaping. After all, we sealed the time wound on Eragon. It's remarkable they had the strength at all to escape."

"My warriors were -"

"Drugged. By my daughter. A rather accomplished witch and herbalist, need you be reminded." The servant came back with a chair and two pewter steins, pouring them both a generous amount of beer, before retreating. Arya was incensed.

"And I suppose that you had no way of providing them with access to boats to leave through our sea gates, or had not knocked out the guards there?" Sri'Hisvran shrugged.

"A witch, a werecat, a dragon, a sword master, and a rider. You really think they can't escape from your clutches," the soothsayer looked up, her tone condescending. As she did so the warriors slowly stirred. The seer stood as they all came round.

"Unless you all wish to be thrown in twain from my house, I'd suggest you all **get out.** " While they were all clutched with fear, the guards looked to their queen.

"Go, I can handle her." They all bowed and left, quickly. Sri'Hisvran pulled a wand from within her robes and waved it about the room, muttering something even Arya couldn't hear. The room began to fall back into place. Shattered vials, their contents spilled about, flew back together and onto shelves, scrolls furled up and returned to their honeycomb shaped holes, while books of many shapes and sizes shut and returned to their places. Sri'Hisvran waved a hand, which Arya decided to ignore the insult of, and sat down.

They both picked up their beers and drank. "If you think that I will allow you to walk around and say you had nothing to do with this you're wrong. You did. And, I suspect, so has Huulthraem. Who, I've noticed, is conspicuously absent currently. Gallivanting on an adventure with his new friends, perhaps?"

Sri'Hisvran shrugged. "Huulthraem disappears all the time. However, I know for a fact that he has gone to supervise a trade with a group of deep dwellers. I can contact him if you like, "the seer waved lazily at a mirror of beaten bronze. Arya scowled, drained her stein, and stood.

"Your days of independence are at an end, soothsayer. I will convene the council immediately. This will not go unpunished." She slammed her empty glass down and stormed out. Sri'Hisvran collapsed against her chair and sighed, pouring herself another. A tapestry moved aside and a figure came into the study from a hidden alcove. They sat and picked up the discarded glass, Sri'Hisvran pouring the hidden guest a drink.

They sat quietly, contemplative.

"You know, she isn't wrong. You will be forced to reckon for this. Plus, she'll now wonder -"

"We prepared for this, need I remind you? It's not as if I was staying in Neth'Anyar for much longer, no? No, the time has come." She rang a different bell, a smaller one, with a bright note. Her handmaiden, and head housekeeper, Seroya, entered and bowed.

"Seroya...tis time. Prepare for the move. Send word to all the old gang. Pack up the house. And nothing public. We move through the trapdoors." Seroya nodded.

"At once, My Lady." She walked out and within minutes the bustle of servants and guards could be heard as they worked, in hushed tones, to pack up their home.

"So while you elope to gather your pajama party -"

"Would you stop calling it that!?" He ignored her.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get to Edur Carthungave. I sent word ahead. They'll be waiting for you. Oh, you'll probably want to resign your position. He nodded, handing Sri'Hisvran a rolled up piece of parchment. He then stood on his two legs and stretched.

"Been awhile since you've taken this form." He ignored her.

"I best be off then." Without so much as a goodbye he opened a trapdoor in the hidden alcove, picked up his ancient blade, and plunged through into the darkness.

The ancient Asdhurian tunnels were a complex network, smaller than the natural caverns of the Depth Reaches, dug by the people and, as such, were far more...comfortable. ' _ **That's an odd word to think of, in regard to this place.'**_ Saphira agreed with Eragon, but he knew she didn't mind. Every few hundred feet there were large pillars that served as postmarks. The glyphs had long ago weathered with age, but they knew which direction they were, roughly headed in. The floors were smoothed, green gray stone, with raised ledges on either side. They ignored the side tunnels, despite their curiosity.

' _ **You seem recovered, miraculously so.'**_ Eragon poked at the fire. He and Saphira were on guard duty, right in the early morn , the others still in deep sleep around the fire. Large roots appeared here and there, cracking the stone and circling out. It had provided ample firewood.

' _ **I went from being unable to function to functioning. Hardly miraculous.'**_ Saphira snorted and pushed him with her snout.

' _ **Eragon. For three years you've studied and prepared for this time, yet a single mistaken act in Tordsed led you to weeks of uncertainty and infirmity.'**_ He scowled at that. He was hardly ever infirm.

' _ **You were.'**_ He scowled again.

' _ **Tell me, O Rider of mine. You learnt the ways of Gurkhagan, survival, blood magic, how to create and use glyphs, the skills of a ranger - survivalism, archery, hunting, moving unseen, even how to brew potions and see in the ice. What brought all of this about?'**_ Eragon was dead quiet, staring into the fire. His thoughts were sluggish, like he was trying to put together a puzzle in a fog. Slowly, he began to speak.

' _ **I guess...when we moved north I thought that we would...I'm not sure...I didn't mean for it to become three years. I'm a man now, in the eyes of my people. Nineteen years. And yet...in a single moment I did something I never meant to do because I rushed it. I foolishly decided to do something that I wasn't even supposed to do. Angela was.'**_ Saphira nodded.

' _ **But it wasn't your fault. You misjudged what she was saying in the heat of battle. Mistakes are made.'**_

' _ **Mistakes like this?'**_

' _ **Mistakes are made, and for a rider and dragon they take on an extra flare.'**_ They both chuckled, but grew sober and he pressed on.

' _ **I think...seeing all of the possibilities of my decision...what if we made the wrong one Saphira? What if, like you said, everything we've learned, was for naught?'**_ She snapped her jaws.

' _ **Because it wasn't, Eragon, it wasn't for naught. You are allowed to act like a moonstruck fool every now and again, which you do.'**_ He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. ' _ **But, as I said before, we aren't ready, but much better prepared than we were. Galbatroix won't be defeated by just anyone. We have completed the first leg of our journey. Like we decided...the time has come for us to rejoin the world. Then we will be set on the path the old one wanted for us, just this time we are better prepared for it.'**_

He sighed and stood. Stretching, he looked out into the darkness of the hall. He took out his timepiece, a gift from Murtagh on his name day. It was old and slightly worn now, but he treasured it. He looked at the time and began to wake the others. They all had a breakfast of dried fruit and cheese, washed it down with breakfast beer, and saddled up for the day's journey ahead. Saphira complained as they hitched the liter to her tail. ' _ **I am not an ox.'**_

"It's merely for another day or two." Everyone looked at the herbalist. She nodded. "Yep," she held up the unfurled scroll, a crazy smile on her face.

"Angela?"

"Yes, princess?"

Murtagh sighed. "The scroll is catching fire."

"So, we get to the highway and go down The Spine, somehow cross the bay, and get to Dauth...then what?" Angela shrugged, looking at Eragon. "Eragon?"

' _ **We should let them know our thoughts.'**_

' _ **Agreed.'**_

"Saphira and I have been talking. After my mishap in Tordsed and all the events subsequently...Saphira and I have had expert training. Angela, you yourself said there are few swordsmen among The Empire who could still best us?" The herbalist nodded.

"Murtagh has taught you well, plus you have become skilled in Gurkhagan, if not a master. Yes, you can swing a sharpened toothpick with the best of them, that's for sure." Murtagh snorted.

"Overall, you've enhanced your skills...we all have. The point of this journey was to escape The Empire and temper the edge of your powers so to speak." Eragon nodded.

"Exactly, so I know the point was to get to Surda to get in touch with the Varden, but after that...Saphira and I have much to learn. Still. We need to learn more about magic, the ancient language, history, art, warfare...Brom told us that the riders of old were more than just guardians of peace. They were -"

Angela cut him off, "philosophers, scholars, justices, politicians, artists, and more." She nodded. "What brought this about?"

"My actions have shown me that I have learned much, but I need to learn more. If I'm to take on that blasted King then...then I need to be as ready as possible. I've learned much, so much so that I feel like I can handle what's ahead. What's ahead for me is...I need a proper education. I need to know just what to do."

Saphira chimed in. ' _ **Eragon is right. The first step of us learning how to be Rider and Dragon is over, the next part begins.'**_

' _ **Glad we didn't waste three years in that frozen hellhole then.'**_ Everyone laughed as Solembum licked his paw from his post on Saphira's back.

"This is it." They all stopped at a slate gray door, fifty feet high, it's hinges rusted with age. It'd been a day and a half.

"We've really passed beneath Ceunon and crossed over by the Anora River?" Angela nodded at Murtagh. "How is that possible?"

"These passages are far more traversible than the wilds of the Depth Reaches. They are exact. The Asdhur were obsessed with mathematics. As such," she walked up to the door, inspecting it. "Solembum, come here." He padded up and stood up, putting his front paws on the door and meowed. "Curious."

' _ **What is,'**_ asked Saphira.

"This door has been marked as leading to an opening on the surface, but...it's not Asdhurian in make. It's something...similar in age, but not by them. I've no clue," she said, turning to her companions, "how it opens." Eragon walked up to, putting his hand forward. He was surprised as his gedwey ignasia began to glow. He stepped back and looked at Saphira. She was just as puzzled as he.

"Everyone, look." Murtagh pointed at glyphs on the side and Eragon's eyes went wide. "It's the ancient language. It reads 'speak the name of the friend and pass you shall into the heath.' What in blazes are they talking about?" Eragon walked up to it, his palm glowing again. He refused to touch it.

' _ **Be careful Eragon, you need to -'**_ They all jumped backwards as Eragon's hand, as if pulled by a magnet, attached to the door. It released a pulse, the runes on the door glowing the blue of Saphira, and then slowly pushing outwards. They all stood there, rooted with shock, before the rider groaned.

"Why does this always happen to me?"

An hour later found them climbing a steep set of stairs, their breathing labored. The liter had to be carried with Eragon and Murtagh cursing as they stubbed their toes and skinned their knees. Murtagh finally dropped it, sweating profusely and cursing as he set it down on his foot, and kicked it.

"Fight the good fight, precious!"

"Angela, I'll kill you. Okay!? I will kill you." Eragon sighed, but then crooned, a sliver of light was in the distance. Saphira gave a soft roar, or as soft as she could. With renewed vigor they moved up the stairs, higher and higher they climbed until they burst out into the open night sky. A winter wonderland met them, a soft snow falling on an expanse of rolling hills and woods, the Anora River visible in the distance. The five of them stood silently, watching the snow fall, the light created by the white expanse giving the world a frozen beauty. Angela turned to all of them.

"Oh, that reminds me. A Happy Yuletide to all."

Eragon awoke and stretched. They had slept in a dense nest of trees near the well hidden entrance to the Depth Reaches. They had had to climb down from a nest of rocks and brambles, resulting in more scraped knees. The nerve racking moment when Saphira lifted the liter and landed in the woods had nearly given Eragon a heart attack. He looked around at his companions. Their well hidden resting spot had been cleared of snow and they'd slept in their bedding over hard packed earth. The fire was still going, providing good warmth.

He smiled and decided to do something nice, for it was Yuletide morning. ' _ **Don't go too far.'**_ He scratched Saphira, the great azure beast nuzzling close, before breathing more on the fire, and settling back down. They'd all slept close to her for comfort, Eragon right against her side. He picked up Val'synra but then stopped. No point as it'd disintegrate anything he killed with it. He frowned. He'd need a new hunting bow.

He shook off the melancholy when he thought of the bow Garrow had made him. There was no point he thought to himself, he'd just make a new one, and honor his bow from childhood with a proper funeral pyre. He looked about, wondering how he'd do this, before he smiled at the memories of the days hunting for dinner with Brom, using a tiny little rock. He looked about and found a sharp little stone. A few flecks from his falchion and he had a sharp arrowhead the size of his thumbnail.

Twenty minutes later, his companions awoke to the smell of sizzling meat, two rather well sized grouse cooking on the spit, covered in spices. Eragon had also made some breakfast porridge with rothe milk and the little bit of honey they had left. A third pot held mulled wine, with spices and dried fruit. But what made them all pause, and made Solembum curl around Eragon's legs purring, Saphira humming to match, was the young blue spruce at the edge of camp, covered in a tiny net of werelights.

"Happy Yuletide everyone."

They spent the morning eating, happily chatting, and ignored their fears of the world. SOlembum had chewed happily at his bowl of grouse liver and marrow. Saphira informed them all she'd be content waiting to hunt tomorrow, but gladly ate the carcasses. Eragon wiped his hands in the snow and grabbed Sri'Hisvran's chest. "I believe Sri'Hisvran said to open these when we got to the surface. Angela looked a little dubious, but Murtagh seemed giddy, like Eragon when he was young and had first been presented with the bow on Yuletide morning. S such the swordsman pulled the chest to him and opened it. Individual packages lay inside, wrapped in brown paper, surrounded by wood shavings from insulation and protection. Each of them held tiny notes, attached to twine, for all of them.

Murtagh handed them out, Eragon noting the heaviness of his. They all opened their presents. Eragon was surprised. It looked like a high collared scale mail shirt made of clay. It was inky black, with buckles up the side of the chest. "Look well Eragon, you've been given something rare...very rare." He looked at Angela.

"It is ceramic armor, rare and unique amongst even the Asdhur, and only reserved for the greatest of warriors. It is formed from a special type of river clay, only found in the Depth Reaches, and that," she pointed at his gift, "is thunderforged. They used literal thunder and lightning to imbue it with power." They all watched as he picked it up carefully, amazed the soothsayer would gift him something so rare and powerful. It fell to his knees and shimmered blue in the light. Angela helped him put it on, everyone stepping back to view it.

Eragon rolled his shoulders. It was snug, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, it was almost like a second skin. He pulled out his falchions and made a few quick movements, the first poses of the Gurkhagan style. He could move just as fluidly as before. He smiled, his grin feral. "I'd have to say...this is quite the gift. I'll be forever in your mother's debt." Angela gave him a deadpan look.

"Don't ever say that again."

The others had gifts, but everyone agreed Eragon's was the most impressive. Angela told him that it was harder than steel, that probably only Zar'roc would have been able to do damage. Or an arrow from Val'synra. Saphira had been given a large batch of "fireweed" if her note was to be believed. She had tentatively eaten some, only to report how much she liked it. Her breath certainly smelled better. Murtagh was gifted "The Great Sieges of Alagaesia", a book he took great pleasure in receiving, saying it was a tacticicians and strategists dream to read it. Solembum was given a collar of dark purple beads with large teeth in between each set, that was large enough to be a necklace when he wore it as a boy.

"I'm surprised you'd be willing to wear such an item," but Solembum merely blinked at Eragon, refusing to answer. Murtagh loved the new addition.

"About time someone put a collar on you." A few minutes later he was nursing his gouges, while Angela refused to reveal her gift, but insisted they open the sack in the bottom of the trunk. They weren't exactly surprised to find a fortunes worth of crowns. They unfurled a note from on top of the pile.

_If the five of you are reading this, then we are in luck and you've arrived out of the caverns, south of Ceunon, and across the ways from Utgard and the old highway. Good. Now listen closely, I have arranged for transport across the bay. There is a small, hidden dock at the very tip of Edur Carthungave. You need to be there before the light of the second new moon from Yuletide Day. That gives you two months time to cross to the Spine and make your way down._

_Now listen here, you must NOT stray from the path. First, I'll know if you do and I'll be angry. You do NOT want to see me angry,_

"It's true, unfortunately." They all looked at ANgela who shrugged. "Do you like it when I'm angry." They shuddered.

_Second, and this is most important, I've made other arrangements for you once you arrive in Dauth. Like I said, you must go to see Lady Alarice upon arriving. Now, when you get there, present the scroll, unopened, and then all will be made clear. However, beware, for the Mad King has a secret network of agents called The Black Hand. They are a force made for espionage and assassinations and have, in recent years, taken a harder stance. If it wasn't for Lady Alarice's court magician she'd be dead by now. They will be on the lookout for suspicious characters, which the five of you are, without stop._

_Get to the dock, cross the bay, go to Dauth._

_In Solidarity,_

_The Soothsayer of Illirea, Sri'Hisvran the Seer._

Eragon furled up the scrolls and shrugged. "Well. We heard the lady."

Eragon and Murtagh tugged the cloaks tighter around them. They were rough, as was the majority of the clothes they were. They had smeared their faces with dirty and grime, ensuring that they'd be splattered with mud and slush. They mussed up their hair and, with daggers belted at their sides, they slowly slunk down towards the village.

Saphira had sighted it during a quick morning reconnaissance flight. It was small enough that it wasn't on a map, just four rows of houses and shops, the majority of the area taken up by farms and animal pens. The town was a little busier, and probably cheerier, than normal as it was Yuletide Day. As they entered, they kept their hoods on, making sure to hide their faces as much as possible. People watched them with wary looks, and women ushered children away as they came upon a large stable. A man in a leather vest was brushing down a tawny pack horse. He looked up and held out a hand.

"Ho, strangers, just stay right there. Been in this village all me life and I've never laid eyes on you. Who are you?" Murtagh looked up slightly before speaking in a thick voice.

"Travelers from North, headed for friendlier climates down south. Aroughs. This is me brudda, Evan." Eragon nodded, keeping his eyes down. "We have need of a horse. Ours bit it a ways back and we've been pulling our cart since. We have coin, the last of it. We just need a good pack horse sir."

The man inspected them, looking over their dirty clothes and guarded countenances. "Well, can't say I blame you, but I don't know if you'll find a better life south of here." The men looked at eachother, but it was Eragon who spoke,

"What'da ya mean? What's going on South? We thought all the soldiers be moving north?" The stablemaster nodded, looked around, and then beckoned them forward into the stable. He walked over to a gray, muscled horse. He was shorter than the others, built more for farm work. "This here's Billiam, Bill for short. He's the only pack horse I got I'm willing to part with. Won't take less than three hundred crowns." He looked at them as if they wouldn't have the money. To his surprise, Murtagh held out a bag.

"Four hundred, and that extra hundred for gossip on what's the trouble." The man, greed in his eyes, nodded eagerly, as he counted out the coins and began pulling things together for giving them the pack horse, Bill.

"Bout three years ago, rumor had it that the urgals, monsters that they are, made a pact with that mad king, and that he sent them to destroy…" he leaned forward, voice dropping, "the Varden." Both of the men nodded, concealing their true feelings, knowing they'd discuss this later. "Only that...it didn't work. Them Varden...they're still around, aren't they? And now Surda declares openly that they support them and want the Mad King overthrown, right?"

' _ **Saphira, are you hearing this?'**_ He felt the dragon's amazement.

' _ **No wonder Sri'Hisvran was happy to get us to Surda. Sounds like we'd be in a far friendlier climate there than anywhere else.'**_ Eragon tuned back in.

"So what's gone on down south then?" Murtagh's accent had dropped slightly, his surprise making him forget. Thankfully the man didn't notice.

"That's just it, isn't it? Just like with the village Carvahall, the King ignores it."

"Carvahall," blurted Eragon. The man turned to him and nodded.

"Oh yes, and I'm surprised you don't know that tale. How far north were you?"

"Torsed, right near the opening to the northern sea." The man nodded.

"You are all cut off up there, yes. But the village of Carvahall betrayed the King. They openly rebelled and when he sent a pack of his best? They found the village deserted, gone. Not a trace to be found." Before he could say anything else a woman with graying mouse brown hair came in, her face screwed up in annoyance.

"Alder, finish with these ruffians, I doubt they have the coin to pay, and come to wash!" She then stormed off. The man laughed.

"'Pologies bout her, she'll be right happy when she sees the coin." They paid Alder, deciding it best then to leave. They pulled the pack horse with them, finding it to be an agreeable animal. As they left the village, to more whispers and stares, but a happy stablemaster named Alder spreading a false tale of two brothers who had met hard times up north and were escaping to warmer climates, Eragon whispered to the horse in the ancient language, telling it that they were friends.

The horse pushed into his side, understanding and happy. As they came back to the edge of the thicket where they had laid in wait, Angela met them. She saw the look on Eragon's face, ashen and worried. Murtagh looked at her and sighed. "I think it may be time for a cup of tea."

Eragon lay on Saphira's back as the three others rushed about saddling things up. ' _ **What're you thinking?'**_

' _ **I want to fly there. I want to get to the bottom of things. I know...I know I can't scry Roran. I know I can't scry anyone, for risk of exposing myself. I know that. However...what could have happened that they left like that? What could have happened that the King set soldiers upon them. We left Carvahall to keep everyone safe, yet it seems all we've done is -'**_

' _ **Is make more trouble than it's worth?'**_ He grunted. He was in a foul mood. It seemed every step he took since Brom's death was now proving to be a mistake. He sighed and pushed back against Saphira, seeking her comfort. He opened his eyes, and watched as a mother pushed a fledgling, high above him, out of the nest. It squeaked as she forced it to prepare to fly. He thought back to the wasp and spider, how the wasp adapted to using the spider to nourish its young.

' _ **No...I will not let my fear and anxiety rule us. We are stronger and sharper than before. We still need training, proper teachers, but we had a point to all of this. We've achieved it. Now, we've left the nest. It's time to fly.'**_

And fly they did. As night fell, Saphira launched herself high, high enough that she'd be mistaken as a bird, and below them a grey pack horse, with an oversized cat on it's back, pulled a two wheeled liter, two figures on either side of it. Eragon let out a deep breath of relief. He'd missed this, the rush of the cold air, the feeling of elation, as he and Saphira soared through the clouds.

As they crossed the terrain, they'd had to avoid several large contingents of soldiers, keeping to the hills and shrubs and thickets they came upon. They avoided main roads and farms, preferring to keep from well trafficked places. Overall, after the excitement of the past few weeks, it was a rather dull adventure. Eragon spent the time going over theories as to what happened with Carvahall, going over everything he'd learned, and studying more. The companions routinely sparred. It was taking them longer than they expected to cross, approaching on a week's worth of time.

"Everytime we have to stop for those blasted soldiers I want to carve out the king's eyes with a dull pin," hissed Angela during one such encounter as they lay low in a ditch. Finally, one morning while flying high, Saphira and him spotted it. Utgard Mountain wasn't too far off in the distance, an imposing figure rising high up from the earth. On the other side of it was Edoc'sil, now called Ristvak'baen. He let the others know. ' _ **We must visit there...someday.'**_ Saphira rumbled low in her throat before diving down to let him off. By the days end they found themselves at the foot of the Spine, well off the beaten path, and staring at a snowy, wooded expanse as it climbed up the mountain.

"How in Angvard's name are we going to manage this?" Angela sighed and pulled out the map.

"Once again, you speak without thinking. Come to think of it, thats always how you speak." She ignored his indignant squawk and marched forward, muttering to herself. Instead of following they all sat tight, Solembum deciding that Bill's tail, flicking about, was a fun toy, until it snapped right in his face. A root, covered in earth, hit Eragon right in the face.

"Fooound it." Angela's voice was singsong. They all sighed, Saphira shaking her head, used to the witch's antics. They all came upon the witch pulling aside root and brambles, her poinard hacking away at branches and limbs.

"Angela, not that I'm adverse to this, since I'm rather used to your...peculiar habits, by why have you decided to weed a random patch of forest?" Eragon's head cocked to the side, Saphira mirroring him.

' _ **I'm with him on this one,'**_ answered the dragon. She ignored them both and merely pulled aside a bush...revealing green gray stone. A set of crumbling steps...which gave way to a path way, rising higher and higher, before zigzagging back and forth as it rose into the mountain.

The higher they climbed the colder it got. ' _ **You'd think after three years of experiencing the occasional spring snow fall we'd be used to this.'**_ Saphira agreed. She would fly and wait for them every few yards. The steps were old and worn, but perfectly workable. They were surprised that ice was rarely found to have formed, only necessitating the removal of snow.

It was around sunset that they found themselves arriving at a stone archway, Saphira having informed them of its location as she flew on ahead. They walked through and found themselves on a well hidden terrace, the great expanse that was the untouched wilds of the Spine expanded before them. They looked about at the mass of pine trees, covered in fresh snow and frost, of the rocks with a glaze of ice, and wild snowberry bushes, plump with ruby red dots. A river snaked below them, frozen over in spots.

' _ **It's beautiful. It reminds me of…'**_ Eragon trailed off, thinking of their home in the north. He felt his eyes grow itchy, but pushed off the thoughts. Bill the packhorse seemed nervous so near the edge of the cliff side. Murtagh held his reins tightly, shushing the animal. Angela looked about before pointing out where Solembum's tail could be seen disappearing behind an old and crumbling doorway. A tower, of some sort, octagon in shape, built into the face of the mountain, rose high up, covered in dead roots and weeds. The doorway was wide enough for two to walk in abreast, so Murtagh pulled in the horse and liter. The tower was hollowed out, old beams rotting above them, crumbling, but the ceiling was intact, keeping out the wind and the rain. Angela clapped her hands.

"This will do nicely, nicely indeed."

The man leaned beneath the great cedar. He had removed the rough traveling cloak, glad to be rid of the cloying thing. His ancient blade was tucked away, but still within reach. His sharp eyes, the same color as when in his true form, scanned the forest. Du Wedenvarden had had that eerie quality ever since the elves came to call it home. He sighed, tapping his clawed fingers against his muscular arms, the color of a fine dark brew.

Suddenly, he saw a flicker out of the corner of his eyes, and just as it faded the sound of a branch snapping back into place as a figure moved around it, and then as if rising from the floor of the forest a figure appeared. Her skin was dry and lined, as ever, her feral eyes and sharp teeth danced with the sunlight. She wore a bright red robe, belted in the middle with a rough leather belt, tiny little figures of carved jade hanging from a string. She walked up to him and stopped. She nodded to him. Huulthraem straightened up. "Maud." She cocked her head to the side. "We need to talk." She raised her eyebrows. "We need to put you on the board."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time: The chessboard isn't set up, but the pieces are being moved out into play. Eragon is speaking more and more about his own fears, Saphira, with her draconic sense of calm, is serving as a conduit. On top of that, they are giving more and more thought to what's next for their education.
> 
> Angela and Solembum and Murtagh are focused on getting their two friends to safety in the south. But what of the three of them. What's going through Angela's head after her family reunion? As they get closer to the Varden will Murtagh's old fears be coming back? And as for Solembum...well, he's Solembum and bound to have an interesting take on things.
> 
> Most of all: Sri'Hisvran and Huulthraem aren't waiting for anybody. They've no time for politics or stubbornness, so it's time to move things along.


	14. Like A Tick Seeking Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the story - the companions are speeding south, working to get Eragon and Saphira to Dauth...

Saphira munched happily on the carcass of her second deer. They had found a large herd sequestered in a valley, and had enjoyed days of venison roast, stew, and now, with Saphira's help, jerky. Eragon watched as Angela whittled away at a piece of antler. It was slowly taking the shape of a badger, like the one they'd come across the other day. It was very similar to many carvings she'd done over their years together.

"When did you start carving animals?"

"When I took it up as a fancy, of course." Eragon rolled his eyes, but acquiesced to her answer, knowing he'd never get a serious one. Murtagh was sharpening Zar'roc, the ever present grimace on his face while he'd sharpened the sword.

' _ **Have you ever noticed how Murtagh always looks at Zar'roc with distaste?'**_ Saphira paused before biting through a rib cage.

' _ **An apt observation. I remember him throwing the sword away one day. Angela forced him to take it back.'**_ Eragon was shocked.

' _ **You never told me this!'**_

' _ **It didn't seem important at the time, merely a frustrated human. Like you in the early mornings when your -'**_

' _ **Alright, alright already. I get it.'**_ Eragon's face had gone red and he was quiet before asking, ' _ **when was this.'**_ She looked up and winked.

' _ **I shall show you.'**_ Eragon was pulled through her mind and into the reaches of her memory…

_Murtagh flipped through the air, bringing his hand-and-a-half sword down, striking an invisible opponent. He took a deep breath as he had finished his exercises. He looked over at the stump where he'd lain Zar'roc. Saphira observed as she flew high above, enjoying a lazy flight, free from prying eyes. Once more Murtagh looked at the sword, yet this time Saphira saw something different. A look of Burning-rage-hatred filled Murtagh's sorrow-dark eyes. He marched over to the sword, picked it up, and flug it, as far as possible. It landed behind a green-grey-berry red bush._

" _Now what is your point in doing that," harrumphed Angela. Theherbalist had multiple wicker baskets full of various plants and fungi, Solembum hot on her heels as she strut right up to Murtagh, setting her load down. "Go and get it. Blockhead." He stared at her mouth agape like a bright-as-moon fish. "Close your mouth, boy, you're not a codfish." He shut it with an audible snap and Saphira was amused. Murtagh's cheek bounced like a jumping bug, a quick-as-wind cricket. Before he could respond Angela puther hands on her hips._

" _That is a Rider's sword. Thanks to my tutelage Eragon has no need for that weapon, not yet, not till he has one of his own. Therefore, in the meantime, you are to be its caretaker and -"_

" _AND THAT BLADE IS EVIL! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IT WAS USED FOR!? WHAT ITS HISTORY IS!? DO YOU -"_

_Angela slapped him right across the cheek, his head snapping to the side. Saphira raised her head, ever so slightly in case she needed to move quick-as-werecat to stop a quarrel between the two-legs. "You have some nerve speaking to me in that manner. Acting as if I don't know what the Sword of Morzan has done, why exactly that blade is named Misery. Yet_ _**you** _ _," she poked him in the chest, "think that your feelings are the only ones that matter in this issue? You think that just because of your history that you're entitled to decide what is done with that sword!? You're a fool. A fool who holds onto his fear. Now,_ _**pick it up** _ _." Saphira rarely ever felt concerned regarding any two-legs, but she had a feeling that Angela was far stronger than she appeared._

_Saphira watched as beaten-like-a-dog Murtagh retrieved the blade and was forced by Angela to spar with it, the herbalist a match for the hardened-as-steel warrior_

Eragon came back into his own mind, swimming with questions. Angela had continued her carving, but he noticed Murtagh had finished with Zar'roc, stuffing the blade with a harsh shove, into his pack.

They moved along the highway, finding at times enough room to stand abreast, with room between them, while at other times the pathway narrowed and they'd been forced to move, one after the other. The most trying was to come to the bridges, suspended by great stone chains, rickety with age. They'd had to have Saphira lift Bill across, the horse put into a magicked sleep. They came upon ruined buildings every now and again, Asdhurian in make. Eragon and Murtagh were always amazed, wondering if the Empire had ever found these buildings.

"I doubt it," Angela said one evening round the campfire, "They are well hidden, we only look upon them because we know of their existence." Overall, despite the continuous snow, ice, and cold, it was a relatively...quiet time.

' _ **I probably shouldn't say that.'**_ Saphira couldn't help but agree as they soared over a mountain vale, a lake glistening with ice underneath them. This time with Saphira though was invaluable. He felt like they were back in the north, flying over the pocket valleys that surrounded their home. As they could spend more and more time together, they spent the time discussing Eragon's anxiety. While his fear was a main topic, he'd been able to glean much from Saphira. She too felt the weight of fear pressing at her mind, thinking of how the ancient, mad beast that was Shuriken would be able to best her. How he'd been forced to serve Galbatorix with dark spells.

The weight of their anxiety and fear, combined, would have taken over a normal man, but sharing the burden helped them understand it.

They both feared they wouldn't be able to stand against their foes, they both feared they'd failed Brom. Yet as they shared the burden, they came to understand it, and each other, and so their bond grew deeper. These flights allowed them to spend time alone, processing, as well as a way to support each other as they contemplated their lives ahead. As they alighted atop a rock outcropping, prepared to rest and observe the world around them, they heard the crack of ice, being broken apart.

They looked below, and paused, in shock. At first, it looked like an Urgal. However...the figure below was…, well, beautiful. Smaller horns than would be on an Urgal or Kull, curled back from the figures forehead, and just slightly upward, instead of curling back and around like a ram. Their hair was like sun bleached bone, but had a lighter quality, as if it shone with life instead of death. Their skin was an oyster grey, their fingers ending in matte claws. Saphira pulled back, to stare through Eragon's eyes.

The figure turned and filled two large jugs with water, before hoisting them onto a sleigh pulled by two massive red deer. The figure then climbed into the sleigh and whipped the reins. Eragon watched fascinated as the figure rode along, silently. Eragon turned to Saphira, who herself looked as surprised as he did

Murtagh, Angela, and Solembum looked at him as he regaled them with the tale of how the figure had disappeared into the woods, carrying its water. Murtagh wondered what the figure could be, if it was actually just some beautiful Urgal. However it was Angela who shook her head no. They looked at her. "Plan to inform us of another ancient species we know nothing of?" Angela ignored him.

"I actually don't know everything there is to know about this world, Princess. However," she ignored Murtagh's harumph, "I have heard rumors over the years. Of a collection or collections of people...like myself." She looked off to the side. She rubbed her arms and turned to look back at her companions. "There have always been rumors among rumors, stories really, of creatures that are unlike any of the races. Neither urgal, nor elf, nor human, nor dwarf, nor dragon...more akin to werecats than anything. Creatures of multiple parentages, or many cultures, all outcasts, all considered fel by their own people, so they find each other." Murtagh picked his teeth but raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying that there are those out there who have parents...like yours? Like your fathers? That you're not a rarity?" She shrugged.

"It's not out of the realm of possibility. There are always tales of forbidden love. Tales are always based on a true story, back in the day."

The companions openly wondered for a while longer, as the days passed, but despite Eragon and Saphira's constant searching, they never again encountered an out of place creature. One morning found them crouched over the map. They were in the mountains across from Lake Flam. Saphira had spent the morning flight with Eragon observing small fishing villages as the villagers cast out for their morning fish. Murtagh pointed at the lake. "It's been about a fortnight since we've been on the highway. In another fortnight we will be at Woadark Lake." He traced his finger down to the opening between the Spine where the Toark River flowed. He looked up at Angela who nodded.

"In another two fortnights we should be at Edur Carthungave." Solembum chewed on a salmon from the rivers far below them. "And then we can cross. Though the idea of being surrounded by water again like in the Depth Reaches is far from appealing." Angela rolled her eyes.

Eragon nodded, and Angela rolled up the map. As they saddled up for the days journey ahead Eragon paused, a prickly sensation on the back of his neck. He spun around, looking out over the ridge from where they'd spent the night under an overhang. Saphira stomped up to his side. ' _ **I felt it too.'**_

"She's on their trail." Zahullaj knocked a bolt into her crossbow, looking over at her brother. Zjdash finished sharpening his blades and sheathed them. He shrugged.

"She hates him. She wants revenge. Can you blame her?"

"She's shortsighted. The boy isn't aware of what he's done. That's hardly his fault."

"It is his fault. He will have to reckon with his actions sooner rather than later. Besides, I don't reckon we'd want to -" Zahullaj cut him off.

"We will do as we are ordered. They need to safely arrive at the Spine's tailbone and get across. And yes," she said, noticing her brother's wide eyes, "I know they've no idea where to go or what to do once they get to the end." She jumped up into the air, landing ten feet higher in the branch of a pine.

"Come on, the rider clearly knows she's watching them so we'd best move on ahead, make sure she doesn't kill the only hope for stopping Galbatorix." Zjdash sighed, but followed along, hopping from one branch to the other as they guarded the hunted Eragon and Saphira.

"Here," Angela plopped a carving of a bear into Murtagh's hand. It was carved from the deer antler from Saphira's dinner a few days back. He looked at and slowly felt a smile come over his face.

"Thanks, witch." Instead of the usual snarky response, he got silence. He looked up, his guard quickly rising. Angela was staring at him, hard. "What, Angela?"

"You should tell him about your father." Murtagh scowled. "While you still have the chance."

"No." Angela snorted and shook her head.

"You still don't get it, do you? You really don't get it…" She marched over to a lichen covered rock and sat down, pulling her cloak tighter around her. Murtagh looked to the skies, wondering why she kept pushing it. He turned to walk away, but found his path blocked by Solembum. He was in his true form, but his hair stood on end and he was snarling. A low growl rumbled from his throat. Murtagh had long ago learned to not fight the werecat. He had no scruples about fighting dirty. He reluctantly walked over to Angela and sat next to her. The uncomfortable silence grew and grew until she broke it.

"When we get to Dauth, what do you think happens? Hm? We contact the Varden, and they know who you are. They know who your father is. You really want Eragon to find out that way? To find out about your father? HIS father? You want him to learn that you two are brothers and that you made the connection and **never** told him? How do you think he'll react?"

"He won't find out." Angela looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"How in the name of my Aunt Sera's saggy left tit is he not going to -"

"I'll be leaving before he has the chance." The wind was knocked from Angela as the words hit her.

"You'll what?" Her words were whispered, shocked. Murtagh nodded, his face determined.

"What I said three years ago still stands. The Varden want things of me I can't give them. What's more, their saviour cannot be the younger son of the rider who betrayed them all to the Mad King. It can't. So...I'll leave."

"And go where!? Do what!? Need I remind you we're all in this now. I guarantee we haven't seen the last of the Shadow Elves or my mother, who despite my issues with her, we will need for the terrible knife work we have ahead of us! You're going to just up and -"

"Angela," his tone was broken. She stopped and looked at him. Murtagh's face was filled with long suffering pain, the pain of a man on the run, with too many secrets. "He'll never trust me again. He wouldn't trust me then and he won't trust me now. And of course I won't abandon all of you." He grasped her hand.

"I still have contacts in the Empire who I know are still alive. I will fight for all of you, from the shadows. Better yet, I may know a few folks from my days who would much rather a change in government than the current blasted ruin we have. Maybe I'll go off and -"

"Go off and do what?" They spun around, shocked. Eragon had walked up to them, but he was smiling, and they knew he'd not heard a thing. He'd clearly just returned, his hair windblown and cheeks red. Murtagh covered up their conversation by lunging at Eragon.

"Go off and surprise you, ya lout!" And he and Eragon play wrestled, as the others looked on with amusement, but within the herbalist a deep seeded ache pulsed with fresh pain.

"Hold still, would you please, lest I stick you with a pin?" Eragon sighed but straightened his posture. Murtagh waggled his eyebrows and smirked where he lay back against his bed roll. Solembum lay atop the table whereas Bill lay next to Saphira, now used to the great dragon, and all watched as Angela measured Eragon, dressing him in his armor. Or what would be his armor.

"Laugh it up, Princess. You're next."

"Ha! Ouch!" Murtagh snickered, no longer worried about his turn under the Witch's attention as she stuck Eragon. "Angela, why exactly are we doing this? Now of all times?" She sighed, cracking her knuckles, before pulling out the armor Sri'hisvran had had Eragon wear during the Battle of Neth'Anyar.

"Because, O' Rider, you're going to return to the world and battle for the freedoms of the peoples of Alagaesia. This means war. War has battles. So to prevent you getting chopped up into tiny little pieces you need to wear armor. Of which you have, but it isn't a complete set." She held up the hard leather corset, nodding. She wrote down several figures. "Get down, and you," she crooked a finger at Murtagh, not evening looking, "get up here."

A few hours later found Eragon dressed in his thunderforged ceramic scale mail shirt, also wearing his padded trousers from Neth;Anyar. The plate back gloves and collar, made of "arsenic bronze" according to Angela which was the reason for their grey-black coloring, completed his fine raiment. Over all of this went his sword belt and fur lined coat, complete with belted falchions and Val'synra and quiver across his back.

' _ **You look ridiculous standing around in all of that with nowhere to go.'**_ Eragon swiped at Solembum.

Saphira pushed hard against the wind, but Eragon knew they needed to find safe harbor, and soon. The blizzard had arrived the moment they'd passed near Woadark Lake. A day after and the winds bore down on them as they looked out ahead, Eragon's coat belted as tight as possible, a scarf covering his face. ' _ **Eragon,'**_ Saphira's breathing was labored. ' _ **Up ahead. A...ruin of some sort.'**_ He looked out and indeed saw what she referenced. An almost intact ruin, though he couldn't tell. It was nestled in a hidden alcove, only visible from their vantage point. Eragon relayed the location to Murtagh, the warrior groaning in thanks as he pushed the others to follow him.

Saphira landed, almost crashing in exhaustion, glad to no longer be fighting the harsh gale. They looked out, using their advanced eyesight to spot the others, Solembum guiding them with his red eyes. They all marched round the bend, bushing aside a wrought iron gate, and walked up the steps of the ruin. Solembum paused. ' _ **Wait, I do not believe -"**_ He was cut off as Eragon pushed open the door.

Light of many fires and candles spilled forth, along with warmth. The smell of ink and old parchment met them, along with tea and coffee. The companions paused, their frozen eyes wide with fear as they beheld a great hall, filled with bookcases, scroll racks, and multiple tables and chairs and settees...and people. Looking back at them were over fifty bald men and women, all wearing simple homespun gray robes, some with wide brimmed red leather belts with cords hanging on them. What was more, they all looked just as shocked by the presence of the three friends, a werecat, and, right behind them, Saphira, the dragon.

Eragon went into defensive mode. He stood in front of everyone, whipping out his falchions. ' _ **Back away, slowly. Be prepared to run for it, Saphira, you'll need to clear a path with dragonfire.'**_ She growled, as a way to mark her readiness and as a way to frighten their unexpected encounters. As they slowly moved backwards a voice rung out.

"No! Wait! Don't go, please! Rider Eragon! WAIT!" Their mouths dropped as an almost bald men with a fringe of white and grey hair was hobbling towards them, his gooseberry eyes shining, a wide grin on his face, looking hopeful. "No, no, no please don't go. Wait!" He got too close, murtagh whipping out an arrow and pointing it at him, Angela raising TInkledeath and both Solembum and Saphira growling. The man slowly held up his hands. He was still smiling. However his eyes never left their weapons.

' _ **Well...this is unexpected...Angela, any idea who they are?'**_ She glanced at Murtagh and shook her head no.

' _ **If they are allies, I've never heard of them. Eragon, they know you, apparently.'**_ He scowled and looked at the man, working himself up.

"How do you know my name? No point in hiding it," he said at Murtagh's incredulous look. The man laughed, clapping his hands.

"Oh it is you! Oh Praise Angvard, it is he," he turned to the other grey clad people who all smiled, as if Yuletide had come again, they whispered and chattered excitedly. "Oh you've no idea how happy this makes us. We'd heard you'd be traveling down the highway, but were told to give you a wide berth and -"

"Who told you!?" Eragon pointed a falchion at the man, his voice firm and commanding. Murtagh had long ago taught him to use his voice like a warrior, to bring about a result he wanted often enough that battle could be avoided. The man looked contrite and clapsed his hands.

"I'm afraid, Eragon, I am not allowed to tell you that. Though" he said at seeing Eragon narrow his eyes, "not out of the wish to deny you the truth. However I must follow these orders. Oh but how thrilling this is. The Arcaena haven't -"

"The Arcaena? Wait as in **The Arcaena**?" Murtagh sounded more surprised than anything. Eragon stopped.

' _ **We've heard that before, haven't we?"**_ Saphira cocked her head and then raised a bony eyebrow.

' _ **In Teirm when we -'**_

' _ **Visited the merchant Jeod in search of seithr oil shipment records.'**_

Eragon held up a hand to stop the man's chattering on. "I've heard of The Arcaena only once before -" he was cut off.

"By the merchant Jeod, yes, he'd told us of your journey's with Brom in Teirm and then onto Dras-Leona." The man nodded, smiling. Eragon was shocked again, but a gale rushed through behind them, throwing papers and scrolls about. The Arcaena members went scrambling, gathering the manuscripts and books to protect them and restore them to their proper places. The man stepped forward. Eragon still had his blade raised.

"Fricai onr eka eddyr." I am your friend, in the ancient language. Eragon glanced at Murtagh and Angela, both surprised.

' _ **Saphira?'**_

' _ **Put them away, I believe him.'**_

They sheathed their weapons and allowed themselves to be beckoned further into the hall. The monks rushed forward and shut the great doors. They barred and triple locked them, and threw more and more logs onto the multiple hearths. Despite the roaring fires, they could still feel the winter's chill. The man walked forward, arms outstretched. "I am Ertharis, one of the Grand Maester of the Order of The Arcaena. I welcome you to the Arcaena Reliquary." He bowed and the monks all followed suit, grinning. "You've no idea how thrilled we are to find all of you here." It was Murtagh who took the lead.

"Thank you for the hospital...Grand Maester...but we are rather confused." Ertharis nodded enthusiastically, as if this all made sense.

"Of course you are Murtagh, of course you are. However," he held his hands up, "before we get into all of this, may perhaps you all warm up and settle in? We'd be happy to take your horse to our stables and let you store your things." Saphira walked forward, everyone tensing slightly. The looked down at Ertharis who looked upon her with reverence, like a newborn child. In a small, soft voice he said, "I truly am humbled to meet a free dragon, especially one as beautiful as you. Saphira." Eragon rolled his eyes as he felt her immense satisfaction.

' _ **He'll do. Tell him to take the horse, but let us all stay in one place for the time being. With our things.'**_

The figure was thrown backwards, though they landed on their feet, shaken but undeterred. The wards surrounding the Reliquary were strong. Far stronger than anything they'd ever faced. Their frustration prevented them from noticing the two pairs of eyes observing her from afar. Zahullaj and Zjdash sat atop their red deer mounts, cloaks fastened tightly, as the snowfall raged around them.

' _ **So determined. Yet so foolish.'**_ Zjdash had to agree with his sister. The Reliquary was a great space, surrounded by the best protections The Arcaena could create. Many master spellweavers and magicians existed among them, safe from the prying eyes of Galbatorix. As such, the Reliquary was a safe space, even from the Mad King. And if he could not break in, they supremely doubted the figure clad in black would be able to either. They watched as they slunk off into the night, probably determined to rest and find another way in the morn.

Eragon and Saphira listened with rapt attention as Ertharis described how Jeod was a member of the order who willingly lived his life amongst the everyday world, but continuously provided them with news and manuscripts. He told them of how they willingly worked to preserve all knowledge and that they'd return once Galbatorix was fallen, to bring the gift of knowledge back to the world. To the, "Broddring Kingdom."

"Broddring Kingdom?" Eragon looked at Ertharis in confusion. The old monk sighed.

"SO much has been lost," he covered his face with his hands, before looking up, "you, my dear boy, are a Broddring. We all are. Save Angela here." He smiled at the herbalist who raised an eyebrow.

"Come again, monk?" He laughed.

"Oh come now Angela, we are well aware of your parentage. The Reliquary was built using an old Asdhur waystation." He smiled happily. They all looked back upon their time in the waystation far to the north and wondered if that truly had been the good old days.

"Can you reach into the Depth Reaches?" Murtagh's tone was wooden, clearly hoping they couldn't. His shoulders relaxed as he was informed that that particular waystation could not. They listened as Ertharis told them more and more of The Arcaena's work. Yet something nagged at Eragon.

"Ertharis, you told us you knew of our journey, but can not tell us of who told you...you may understand this makes us uneasy." It was tough for Eragon to say that, for the monks had been terribly kind. They had brought forth an entire flank of roast moose for Saphira. The rest were served with a hearty stew and loaves of fresh bread and a wondrous, dark brew. This was coupled with individual roast hens, golden potatoes and carrots with rosemary and garlic, finished with buttery pastries and mulled wine. The monks, numbering over two hundred, sat around eagerly listening, some taking notes.

The old man nodded, his face grave. "I swore in the ancient language, to ones I trust, but yes, I was sworn to not reveal their identities, but" he said seeing Eragon's crestfallen look, looking between him and Saphira, "I can say this." He smiled and looked at Angela. "Sri'Hisvran says hello." Angela groaned.

"My mother sticks her arms elbow deep into everything." The evening ended with them giving a brief version of their tale. Of how Eragon and Saphira had gone into seclusion in the north to train, of how Murtagh joined them, and of how Angela and Solembum showed up not long after, of how they'd built a life, trained, and after three years set about to return.

"A wondrous, wondrous tale, and I have so many questions, but," he looked upon the sleepy travelers, "beds."

They were all given rooms next to each other. Eragon was amazed the halls were large enough for Saphira, the corridors wide and the ceilings easily tall enough for her to fly about. As such they were put in a wide open chamber with a sumptuous four poster bed...with a large basin full of hot water waiting for Eragon.

' _ **And to think, I was getting used to you being smelly, reeking mess, like most humans.'**_

Eragon awoke slowly, at first thinking last night had been a dream, but cuddled into the thick comforter as he woke in the open hall. He opened his eyes slowly, not surprised to find Saphira curled around his bed. His clothes, however, were gone, but waiting for him, neatly folded, were the clothes he'd worn in Neth'Anyar. He stood and stretched, before relieving himself behind a partition. He was happy to see nobody would need to empty the chamber pot as it turned over and was flushed down a hole which had fresh snowmelt running through it. ' _ **If you're done observing your bowel movements.'**_ He rolled his eyes.

' _ **Isn't juvenile humor beneath you, Dragon of mine.'**_

' _ **Stop being a juvenile and it'll stop being beneath me.'**_ He chuckled and dressed before looking around. Multiple bookcases surrounded them, some higher than Saphira if she'd stretch her long neck. Tablets of stone were neatly stacked alongside scrolls of all sorts. Many were old but some looked brand new. A pageboy entered, bowed, and left a pewter set, full of hot coffee. Eragon gladly poured himself a cup and sat back against Saphira.

' _ **I never thought I'd be so comfortable in some random place we came across.'**_

' _ **Why are you?'**_ Her tone wasn't judgemental, just curious. He stopped and considered, looking about. Then he thought back to Ertharis, and his revelations about the merchant Jeod, and The Arcaena itself.

' _ **I think,'**_ he said starting out slow, ' _ **that I am seeing now that while we are the last of the free riders, the last of the old order, we aren't the only ones to oppose Galbatorix. I know we will be the ones to face him, in the end...but I know now we will have help. More than just Murtagh, Angela, and Solembum. Sri'Hisvran and Huulthraem. The Varden. The Elves...even the Shadow Elves maybe...we've talked about what we've learned and it's also made me realize we have allies, those who can stand against Galbatorix and make a difference. To stop the Mad King.'**_ His voice ended with a note of finality. Saphira was silent for a moment.

' _ **Are you planning on composing an epic whilst here?'**_ He groaned.

The others joined them before long, Murtagh saying he'd unloaded the liter in his room, but that nothing was missing in the morning. Ertharis joined them before long, encouraging them to join him for breakfast in the Refectory. He introduced them to Arella and Stith, his fellow Grand Maesters. They were all surprised to find Arella dressed in a red, silk covered canvas jacket, just like Angela's. It was the mark of a master spellweaver, apparently. "My mother gave me one when I was younger." Arella smiled and nodded, explaining that Sri'Hisvran was no stranger to The Arcaena.

As they conversed and ate, Eragon grew more and more restless. "Something on your mind, Eragon?" He looked at Ertharis, shrugging sheepishly.

"It's just that…we really should be on our way." Everyone grew silent, but Ertharis smiled kindly.

"I very much understand what you mean, Eragon...yet the blizzard still rages outside. He pointed at the drapes behind him and reached over, pulling one aside. The storm indeed raged, more and more snow falling. Eragon sighed, knowing they'd be losing time.

"Relax, Stith here informed me that they have a better route for us, one that will get us to the bay in good time." Eragon raised an eyebrow at Murtagh's news.

"Yes, Rider Eragon. We are happy to help. Supporting you is our duty." He paused, but smiled softly.

' _ **Alright, I see what you mean.'**_ He laughed as Saphira went back to her breakfast.

Zjdash and Zahullaj sat back as the figure became more and more clear, riding a red deer like them. Huulthraem's black muscular frame shined in the light of the white snow, a beautiful contrast. He dismounted, ignoring the low bows from them. "Report."

"She follows them, like a tick seeking blood. Eragon's blood." He grunted as his eyes narrowed in on the foolish woman. She scaled the side of a rock face like a spider.

"Yet she's not been able to break in?" Zahullaj shook her horned head no.

"We've sent word through messenger hawk. They know she's skulking around, they are prepared to get them all to the bay in a quicker manner than just following the highway. Though we have no way of knowing what that is." Huulthraem grunted, not caring.

"As long as they get there, all will be will." He mounted his steed. "I'm returning to the village. The others are gathering for conclave. I'll send word in a few days." He rode, quickly, back into the whiteout.

Eragon and Saphira sat down at the elm desk, as Ertharis directed multiple monks about him. He set down in front of Eragon and Saphira a great tome, leather bound and clasped with gold. "This, Eragon, Saphira, is a complete account of the history of the riders until the time of Galbatorix's reign. It ends right before the time of his rise to power. I thought that this," and he waved about at the myriad of texts he'd taken out, "might interest you as we are all stuck inside today." He then walked over to Angela who was busily muttering to herself as she read various texts. Even Murtagh and Solembum found themselves absorbed.

Eragon eagerly opened the tome, reading out loud in his mind to Saphira as they read through the opening chapters. A while later, Eragon closed the book, leaning back and groaning as he stood, amazed that he'd spent all that time hunched over a book, he then noticed the cold meal next to him. Murtagh chuckled. "We tried to get you to eat, but you were so absorbed in the history of the riders you didn't hear us. You just read over eight hundred pages in four hours." Eragon blinked owlishly, amazed it was already mid afternoon. He then realized that sunlight shone in on them.

' _ **Shall we see the place we call refuge?'**_

Saphira rushed through the air, spinning about as they rose over what could only be described as a cathedral. The waystation, built into the side of the mountain, had been overtaken by a grand building of pillars and turrets, less monastery and more palace. It took over the hidden alcove, the back end leading to a great garden, a meadow, and a mountain lake. Stone walls surrounded space, but he knew from the shimmering in the air above him, that a great shield surrounded them, a dome that hid them from the world.

' _ **If only we knew of this place beforehand. I'd be less anxious about being learned enough to face Galbatorix.'**_ Saphira laughed and climbed higher, glad to warm herself in the sun's rays. They landed after a while, and Eragon journeyed inside the Reliquary as Saphira used her tail and fire to help the monks clear the snow from their courtyard and walkways. Eragon was directed to Ertharis' study, where he, Arella, and Stith were conversing with Murtagh and Angela.

"Where's Solembum." Angela waved her hand, not looking up from a sheaf of parchment.

"Probably being unproductive like hunting mice or shitting in a corner or something." He looked to the heavens, long suffering. Ertharis waved him over.

"Now, while I do wish you could all stay longer, there's no time to waste." Eragon nodded. He felt rushed, like he had no time to relax and take it all in that he was actually at the Arcaena Reliquary, that he'd had a chance to read to his heart's content to absorb all of the information. After three years of taking the world in, his skin crawled with annoyance and frustration at not being able to absorb everything around him. "As such," Ertahris waved as their map, "we should be able to provide you with an even more direct route from here." He took out a brass instrument, a sword of cross between a compass and a ruler, and began making complex calculations. He leaned back, nodding. "That should do it." He looked at Angela and nodded. She sprinkled some sort of herbal dust on the map.

"Now, Eragon, imbue your breath with magic and breathe on it." He could feel Saphira observing him. They'd done this before, such as with the Asdhurian key. He lent forward, reaching within himself, filling his breath with the power of magic, and breathed. The powder swirled about, like little whirlwinds, until leaving the map completely, except now there was a thin green line zigzagging through the Spine. A few of the lines hit the red marks of waystations, while others traveled straight through.

"Remarkable," exclaimed Murtagh. Ertharis nodded.

"Isn't it? This particular herb mixture that Angela prepared responds positively to more unrestrained magic, as many of the herbs come from places like the Isle of Eoam where magic is more wild and free." He gestured at the map, where tiny little lines began to appear, runes, written in the Asdhurian script. "Most Asdhurian maps, such as this, also possess hidden trails and markers, that require such attention as we've given it."

Murtagh leaned in closer, eyes narrowing, tracing the lines. "So this is essentially a secondary route? A quicker one that is?" Ertharis nodded and pulled on one of the leather strings on his belt, at the end of which was several keys they noticed. He went over to the wall and pushed a large clay cylinder, riddled with honeycomb shaped doors, around until he got the door he wanted. He unlocked it, pulling out a thin box, covered in velvet. Angela perked up.

"Is that a…" She trailed off, cocking her head, eyes alight with wonder. Ertharis opened the box, revealing a wand. It was beautifully carved, with a handle of ivory, carved in the shape of a raven, the wood a bright color. "Silver willow, dragon ivory, and a single werecat tail hair. About ten and a half inches." He picked it up and Angela looked at it with reverence. Eragon spoke up.

"Angela, didn't you tell me wands were natural items for witches to use to channel their magics?" She nodded, but Solembum walked up, in boy form, and spoke up, eyes not leaving the wand.

"She's surprised because wands like this are rarities now, almost impossible to find. I have never seen one like this, and only ever seen one stave in my life."

"Stave," asked Murtagh, "like a staff?" The werecat nodded. Ertharis smiled and touched the wand to the map and spoke.

"Garjzla." The lines and runes began to glow, and slowly changed color and solidified, setting into the parchment as if inked there. Angela looked at the wand with wonder.

"I presume this is an artifact that is a rarity?" Eragon looked at the wand, very curious as to its abilities. Ertharis handed it over, happy to let the Rider observe.

Eragon could feel the power in the wand, it thrummed through the wood and ivory. Ertharis spoke up. "Every good wand was crafted of two materials, with a single core of material that would be useful for channeling gramayre. Magic," he clarified, seeing Eragon's confused look, "is more appropriately called gramayre." Angela snatched the wand from Eragon's hands. He wasn't surprised, as she'd done this to him many times before. Yet, they all watched with surprise as bright silver sparks shot from the end of the wand and a wind rushed through the room.

Ertharis clapped, excited. "Oh how splendid! I wondered if it would do that! It seems I was right!" He clapped some more, "well done Angela, well done indeed." Angela looked stricken, but her eyes were alight with...hope. Solembum had shifted, and was now rubbing against her, purring.

"Mind explaining what just happened?" Murtagh was more amused than anything, and somewhat exasperated, always expecting moments like this. Ertharis nodded happily.

"The wand has chosen Angela as its user." Saphira's voice sounded around them.

' _ **You'll need to explain this.'**_ She was just as interested as the rest of them. Her head snaked into the study through the main door. The Grand Maester nodded.

"Magic, the blood stream of our existence, can be accessed in a wide variety of ways. Now, on Alagaesia, eons ago, the Grey Folk were able to seize control of magic and name it, and give substance to the true names of everything else around us," he gestured around the room. "However, their magic wasn't the only kind of magic there is." He pointed at the wall where a great map of Alagaesia stood, showing the far northern and eastern reaches. The Bay of Fundor took over the north, with a wide expanse next to it called "The Northern Wastes." They could see Tordsed and the Ice Tongue just south. The eastern reaches went all the way to a Mount Arngor, taller than the mountains of the Spine, but shorter than the Beors.

"That is not the entirety of our world and many other magics, some more wild, some less, exist in it. Overall, this is why the Grey Folk, at least this is our theory, this is why they diminished so much."

"They diminished," said Eragon slowly, gathering his thoughts.

' _ **Because they tried to control all of the magic in the world, through their tongue?'**_ Saphira finished for him.

Ertharis nodded, "that's our theory. Also, as you have probably learned from Angela, there are other types of magics. Witches and Wizards have been called lesser practitioners, but this," he looked at Angela, "is the furthest thing from the truth." He pointed at the wand. "They merely use other types of magics. Wands and staves allow them to channel their talents, properly. So, the wand, which goes by the name Ravenbranch, is yours." He bowed to Angela who had yet to take her eyes from it, but said softly.

"Thank you."

They spent their final night enjoying a mighty feast, the monks of the Arcaena ensuring that they went to bed with full bellies. Even Saphira, with her prodigious appetite, had to turn away a fourth haunch of roasted ox. She drank eight full casks of stout. Angela amused everyone with fancy wand work, shooting colored ribbons and sparks through the air, much to everyone's joy. Murtagh and Eragon even deigned to perform some swordplay, everyone watching with rapt attention. Solembum and Saphira even allowed some of the monks to take observations and measurements for their studies, the scholars practically crying with joy. Ertharis, Arella, and Stith informed the companions that they would help prepare them for their journey ahead in the morning, and waved off the protests.

"It is our duty, Eragon. And not just as The Arcaena."

Eragon lay in the comfortable, four poster bed, bemoaning its loss tomorrow, as Saphira relaxed around him. ' _ **We will have to return here one day.'**_ She hummed in agreement.

' _ **Saphira?'**_

' _ **Yes, Little One?'**_

' _ **Have you ever thought about what we'd do once we achieved victory? If we achieve it?'**_

Saphira paused before answering. ' _ **No, I have not.'**_ He felt her sorrow. Her sorrow that the only of her race alive, next to her, was Shuriken. The mad black dragon that was bound to Galbatorix.

' _ **There are still the two other eggs, Saphira. You may not yet be the last of your kind.'**_

' _ **I am part of a diminished race, Eragon. I do not wish to tarry on thoughts and flights of fancy. We should stay focused on the tasks ahead.'**_ Eragon grew quiet. Saphira's sorrow was a deep gulf of pain, a gulf of her own fears and anxieties and questions. Was she truly the last of her race? Would it end with her?

' _ **Let us not focus on such melancholy thoughts. The last few days have been a boon. We have gained new friends and allies, Angela's silent hope and prayer of being able to master her craft further has been answered, and we now know of how to achieve our goal and reach our destination quicker. Let us focus on the good and not the bad.'**_

' _ **Our golden moments, yes?'**_ Eragon had coined the phrase one early morning as they watched the sun rise over the peaks of the Spine. Saphira curled closer to the bed.

' _ **Our golden moments.'**_

They awoke refreshed and full, Eragon bathing and dressing in his ceramic armor with the arsenic bronze collar. He chose a pair of soft but fur lined trousers and hardy boots. He shrugged on his coat and gathered up his possessions. The monks had laundered and repaired all of his clothes, despite his protests. His falchions and arrows were sharpened and waxed. Even Val'synra had been carefully cleaned and looked over by Arella and Stith, who had been glad to be able to examine a bow that had been shaped by the bonesingers and fleshshapers of the Weresabres. "A chaugaulacis is no ordinary weapon," Stith had exclaimed upon seeing it. He was well prepared to leave. They joined the others in the hall, expecting it to be just them and the Grand Maesters. Instead, the entire order had assembled.

What was more, they looked sad. As they moved aside to let Eragon through, many bowed, some even wiped away tears. Some murmured prayers of good fortune and health, others muttered "Argetlam" or "Rider." They did the same to Saphira, calling her "Bjartskular" and "Mighty Dragon." Even Murtagh, with his hard countenance, seemed touched. Bill, their packhorse, was freshly brushed, and sleek. He'd been well cared for. Their liter was sorted and organized, several new packages filling it. He watched with surprise as several monks came forth with a frame made from horker tusks and their oilskins. They fitted it over the liter, giving it a hood.

Ertharis shrugged at Angela's bemused look. "They all wanted to help, to have something to do." He, Arella, and Stith walked forth.

"It seems we are always getting gifts these days," chuckled Murtagh. Arella smiled.

"As it should be, especially if they provide you with assistance in your tasks ahead." Murtagh put down his shield embossed with The Garuda and took the package from her with his name on it. He unwrapped it and beheld a spyglass. It was no ordinary spyglass though, with multiple nozzles and little magnifiers. "This will allow you to observe many magics and see farther than even a dragon's eye." Murtagh unfurled a small scroll, instructions on the device.

Solembum unwrapped his present and purred deep in his chest. It was a golden bowl, finely crafted. "Every werecat, and cat, deserves a fine saucer for their meal." Angela had begged off her present, but she was forced to open it, finding a small tome, bound in bark.

"It's called The Black Pine Libram, written by a witch woman of the Spine, from another age. It will serve you well to read and learn." Angela, even though she was of a great age, seemed like a giddy young girl in that moment. The three turned to Eragon and Saphira.

"Saphira, we weren't sure of what you may want or need, but Eragon mentioned that you had taken an immense liking to fireweed, so we have given you most of our, admittedly small, store."

Saphira leaned forward, surprising the three by touching them upon their brows. ' _ **Thank you, Grand Maesters.'**_ Her voice projected to the entire hall. They wiped their eyes.

' _ **They really do adore you.'**_ She ignored Eragon. They all turned and looked at him.

"As for you Eragon, you are already well armed and armored, and your fellowships stores of supplies we've replenished. In the litre you will find three compendiums. The first is the history of the riders that you seemed to enjoy so much, the other two are compendiums on gramayre and it's study and use. We'd argue that you study and go slow, before trying anything too difficult." Ertharis winked a gooseberry eye as Eragon laughed, and thanked him for his gift.

"However, we have one other gift. A promise really." He waved Stith forward.

"A rider needs a rider's sword." Eragon paused, his chest tightening as he grew very interested. "We do not possess one currently, but we have begun a search of the land, for all of the riders' swords that may not be in the possession of Galbatorix. When we locate one, one that we believe may serve you, we will inform you." He bowed, as did the entire order.

' _ **Imagine that...a rider's sword...for me...one that actually serves me...'**_

He wiped tears from his eyes, surprised at the magnanimity of their promise. "Thank you."

A week later, the companions found themselves missing the comfort of the Arcaena Reliquary, but they followed the new trail and found their travels were far easier. They'd passed south of Kuasta that morning, Leona Lake a sliver in the distance. Eragon became uneasy as they nearer across Dras-Leona, remembering the place as a city of sorrow and terror. Murtagh's expression was grim and he gripped his blades tightly as they made their way down the old pathways. Even Angela had grown quiet and Solembum's hair stood on edge.

Yet, the prickly sensation on Eragon's neck returned, the constant feeling of being watched sitting at the back of his mind. "Do you think it could be the Ra'zac?" Angela shook her head at Murtagh.

"Solembum would have sensed them far quicker than we'd have. He'd smell those vile creatures miles away." They all pledged to be extra vigilant in the days ahead as they passed the slaver city. They spent their days in silence, sometimes reading if one of them fancied a ride aboard Saphira, or observed the world around him. Eragon looked forward to coming back to the old ruins during the springtime, to see the beauty of the wilds.

As they camped directly adjacent from Leona Lake one evening, Murtagh's monocular picking out the dirty yellow walls of the city in the distance, they decided against a fire, just in case. Eragon couldn't sleep a wink. His skin was crawling. He rolled over, determined to try and get some rest, but he felt the prickly sensation again. He rolled over and looked out into the darkness, before reaching down and withdrawing his hunting knife. He nicked his finger and drew a sigil, muttering "Eyddr." The world emptied of distractions, of everything, and came back as a bright web of life. Even in the dead of winter he could see that the world around him teemed with the bright web of lives, all connected.

' _ **There.'**_ Two bright lights, electric blue, across the valley from them, perfectly adjacent from their camp. He saw a brief flicker, a malevolently hued light, before it went out. The electric blue ones followed. He connected his mind with everyones.

' _ **We're being followed.'**_

Huulthraem struck Zahullaj and Zjdash upside their heads. "Fools," he hissed. "You didn't think to conceal yourselves!? That boy used a sigil and a word and found you!" The weresabre paced about in his humanoid form. He was unsure of what to do next.

Zahullaj spoke up. "He saw our life forces, yes, but he -"

Huulthraem cut her off, "he, Murtagh, Angela, Solembum, and Saphira," he stressed the dragon's name, "will now all be on the lookout, even more so." He looked off into the distance. "Go back to the village." Zahullaj spoke up, ready to defend herself, but Zjdash beat her to it.

"I wasn't thrilled with this assignment, but even I don't think we should leave them alone. Need I remind you -"

"I know what hunts them, I'm well aware, youngling. Yet you've been compromised. Zahullaj out of eagerness and you out of carelessness. Return to the village. I will have Leila watch over them." Both of their horned heads shot up.

"Leila? When did Leila return? We thought she was on -"

"Sharktooth Isle. Yes. She was. We've called in all of the old gang. She will watch for them. Now, **go."**

The companions hurried down the trail. They'd passed Belatona some days ago. The air grew slightly warmer each passing day, thought that wasn't the largest difference. They'd be at Eudr Carthungave a fortnight and a half ahead of schedule. They made their way down a set of rickety, stone stairs. Saphira waited at the end with Bill and the liter. Suddenly, the prickly sensation came back to Eragon and Murtagh shouted out. "Eragon, look out!"

He turned and was kicked in the chest, full force, by two feet. He was launched down the stairs, and crashed hard against a broken pillar. The wind was knocked out of him. He heard Angela and Murtagh running for him and the roar of Saphira as she took off to come to his assistance. Solembum was darting forward, fangs out.

A hooded figure in black leather and cloak stood on a landing above him. It was a woman. The bottom half of her face was covered in a black mask, her mysteriously bright eyes and deathly pale skin with an eerie gray tint the only visible thing. She was young, about his own age he guessed. Before he could do anything she spun around and cast a spell. His companions crashed into a barrier, violet sparks flashing as they were launched backwards. She then turned and threw out several shriveled balls. They landed around him. They were fruits, in the shape of human heads. They pulsed and a dark aura came over him, draining him of his strength. He gripped his falchions, but his movements were sluggish.

He could feel a scratching at his mind and heard the crash of trees as Saphira attempted to land, but the shield prevented him. The woman laughed, the sound hollow and echoing. "The aroma of the human headed fruit clouds thy judgement, O' Rider." Her voice was mocking. He slowly clambered to his feat, breathing harshly.

"Night Queen Arya, what a surprise," he spit out. Again the figure laughed. She then looked at him with the full force of her gaze. Violent violet orbs looked back at him. They weren't the green of the Shadow Elves monarch.

"Night Queen? Hardly. Though if you wish to call me your end, you're quite welcome to. Because I am." She walked forward, slowly, removing a very odd looking sword. It was as if two thin blades had been forged together, creating a twin pronged blade, like two snake fangs that attached at the hilt. She walked slowly towards him. He could barely move, the dark aura pulsing more and a sickly sweet aroma overcoming him.

As she drew closer though a roar echoed across the ridge. A fearsome roar, unlike a dragons. The air reverberated around the shield, and it shattered. The woman leaped backwards as Saphira landed, and bathed the area in flame. Angela came flying down, Tinkledeath drawn and firing bolts of lighting from her wand. Murtagh had drawn Zar'roc and was uttering a fierce war cry. Angela disintegrated the fruits. The heady aroma lifted and Eragon shook himself free. He spotted the woman in the trees and whipped off a few arrows from Val'synra. She deftly avoided them.

She then launched herself into combat. Murtagh, Angela, and Eragon couldn't land a blow. He withdrew his falchions and battered away at the woman, moving in circles, continuously, low to the ground as he was taught, but never could the moves of Gurkhagan land a blow. Angela was shocked as the woman avoided tinkledeath and roundhouse kicked Murtagh, flinging him backwards. She struck the ground with her palm, and a force of air flung the four backwards. Saphira took the chance to lunge and try to bite the woman, but she flipped over the teeth filled maw. Eragon sprung forward and engaged her in a fierce duel.

It was clear they were equals in fighting prowess, Eragon unable to land a blow, and she unable to knick him. Her eyes stung like needles, white hot and angry. They locked blades, as Murtagh and Angela bound up the path, prepared to engage her. Saphira dared not interfere out of fear of hurting Eragon, and concerned for Solembum as he had been flung hard against a boulder.

"What now, Eragon? Going to curse me again?" The woman's voice was harsh, full of contempt.

"What're you talking about?" Eragon's rage filled him, coursing hot through his veins. Who was she and what was she talking about? She snorted, and pushed him off. Before she could re-engage though they heard a howl. A wolf, or what they thought was a wolf, burst through the trees. The woman lept to the side, barely missing the wolf creature's fierce claws. It was dark brown, almost black in color. It nashed its yellow fangs and lunged again. This time it caught the woman's hood, ever so slightly. It whipped off.

' _ **Eragon!'**_ The woman's inky black hair was pulled into a tight bun, with her bangs a sharp line across her forehead. Above her violet eyes was a shining, shimmering mark.

' _ **It can't be…'**_

_Eragon and Saphira drank heartily from the rushing waters of the Ramr River, glad to fill their dry throats. They were a few leagues away from the town of Bullridge, Murtagh out hunting for that evening's dinner. They were moving as quickly north as possible, prepared to go as far from the reaches of all who would tug at them. To temper the edge of their abilities. Eragon leaned back against a rock, feeling the sorrow of Brom's death come over him again. He rubbed at his dirty eyes and stood._

' _ **I need to take a walk.'**_ _Saphira told him not to wander too far and settled down, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He wandered over the hills, making sure to keep his hunting knife and bow at the ready just in case. As he stepped over a bramble, he lost his footing and tumbled down._ ' _ **Ugh…'**_

' _ **You're as clumsy as a newborn calf, you know that?'**_ _He ignored Saphira to nurse his wounded pride, but stopped as he felt eyes on him. He looked up. An old woman, with a lined face, dressed in a dirty traveling cloak, clutched a newborn babe, not even a month old. Her eyes were wide, fearful._ ' _ **Eragon, get out of there now. We need to leave.'**_ _He slowly stood, keeping his eyes on the woman, but flickered over to a mound. It was surrounded by a ring of stones and a cluster of sage sat on top of it._ ' _ **Eragon!'**_ _He ignored her._

_It was a grave. He stared at it, but was shook out of his gaze by the old woman. "I tried to save her," her voice was like cracked parchment, it warbled with grief. "She wasn't even a relation, merely someone like me." He looked at her. "Someone yearning for a better life, a better world. Free of the Mad King." The babe fussed and she cooed at it, bouncing it slightly, before feeding it a trickle of milk. She looked up, "the birth was too hard on her. She didn't last long, we've barely traveled a league since the birth. She passed on two nights ago." She looked off, tears falling down her cheeks._

_She looked at him again. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone who you are." Her mouth gave an odd jerk, like it was about to smile, but couldn't. His face was white with shock. "Oh yes, I know who you are, running from the Empire too. Seen your posters." He slowly nodded, struck dumb._

_There was a crash and the woman shrieked, the baby crying out, as Saphira's snarling head appeared. Eragon leapt up, "Saphira. Stop!" She paused in her growling, and looked at him, irritated. He relayed to her what had occurred. She sniffed the grave and then the woman, who tensed and clutched the baby to her chest. Saphira pulled her head back._ ' _ **This was foolish for you to remain here.'**_

' _ **It was foolish of you to reveal us!'**_ _They both stopped arguing as the woman cried, but they were sobs of joy._

" _Oh, blessed be, the rumors are true. Oh blessed be to Angvard, it is true. The Riders have returned." She cried, clutching the babe to her chest, sobbing, as Eragon rushed over and shushed her. The old woman clutched him, thanking him, kissing both his cheeks, She grew quiet and sprung up, insisting on preparing him some wild mint leaf tea. He looked at Saphira who cocked her head to the side._

" _We cannot tarry, good woman, but thank you for the offer." She bowed._

" _It is an honor to be in the presence of a Rider, M'Lord." Eragon's cheeks went red._

" _I am not a lord, but thank you. Please," and in a rush, he grabbed the woman's hand, "you musn't let anyone know of me...of us," he gestured at Saphira. She nodded vigorously and made clear that she wouldn't tell a soul. Eragon conferred with Saphira and decided._

" _Where are you headed?" The woman clammed up, paused, before letting them know she was headed towards Surda, and from there she hoped to find the Varden._

" _I will not tell a soul I've met you...but where are you headed." Eragon rubbed his neck before answering, giving a half truth._

" _Into seclusion...to study and meditate...to prepare to stand against the King." He hadn't told her where, which was for the best he thought. He pulled out some dried fruit and meat from Saphira's saddle and handed it over to the woman, who kissed his cheeks again. He then got a look at the babe. It was a little girl, with the beginnings of jet black hair._

" _Tis her name?" The old woman smiled._

" _Elva, and I am Greta, her caretaker." He greeted them both, but it was Saphira who surprised them._

' _ **Well met Greta, and little Elva too.'**_ _Greta paused, wide eyed, looking at Eragon._

" _She...she speaks?" Saphira laughed in her throat and addressed the woman directly._

" _ **Of course I speak, good woman."**_ _Greta again offered tea, but they both begged off, saying they had to get on. Despite their beliefs in the woman's good nature, they had to leave. As they prepared to do so, Greta reached out. Her grip was like iron. She stared at Eragon, hard, with tears in her eyes._

" _Elva has no parents,just me, to care for her. Bless her Rider Eragon, bless her for fortune and luck." Eragon paused. He looked to Saphira and wondered to himself,_ ' _ **Do I dare take this responsibility.'**_ _He slowly came to an agreement within himself and placed his hand over the child, pulling together the words._

" _Atra gulia un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waise skolir fra rauthr." He was surprised to find himself incredibly weak after that, steadying himself against Saphira. He looked up at the woman. "That is all I can do for her." She nodded, bowing slightly, but Saphira snorted and moved to look at the child. She lowered her snout and touched the babe, Elva, upon the brow. An eight pointed star shaped patch of skin, as silvery white as Eragon's gedwey ignasia, appeared. Greta's eyes were feverish with thanks._

' _ **He gave her a future. I give her hope.'**_

Eragon's mouth hung open. "...Elva!?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Well...Eragon don' fucked up. Also, what's with the giant wolf-person?
> 
> In all seriousness - the consequences of Eragon's actions come back to haunt him and Saphira as Elva appears, right as they near the bay and their freedom in Surda.

**Author's Note:**

> Will be updated every Sunday


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